


To Sow a Barren Land: Book I

by XxIrisxX



Series: To Sow a Barren Land [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I have nothing against Thranduil, I'm so sorry, Infertility, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Timeline What Timeline, Young Thorin, prince Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 42,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1736156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxIrisxX/pseuds/XxIrisxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Thranduil must produce an heir to maintain their line. But it is easier said than done. With passing time and growing restlessness of their people, the demand of an heir weighs heavily on both of them. Esatablished Thorinduil. Mpreg, OFC, infertility (and maybe miscarriages), tweaked timeline and events. Please read the Series Notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: 'The Hobbit' is the product of the literary genius of J.R.R Tolkien and his amazing inspiration. I am only borrowing the characters. I do not profit by it in any way.
> 
> AN: Okay, I know I have fics pending but I just HAD to write this one down because it was there in my mind and I just HAD to write this one!
> 
>  **Edit:** As I've said, I originally planned this to be a single fic. But the way the plot is moving and the length this fic is gaining, I thought it'd be better to break it into parts. That way, it'd be easier to follow. :)

Thorin was utterly spent when he dropped on the bed, right next to his lover. He exhaled and took many deep breaths so as to steady his racing heart. When he was composed enough, he turned to his side and let his strong arms entwine around one slender waist while his chin found its perfect place at the crook of his lover's neck.

The other one stirred slightly and welcomed the loving touch. He too was coated in a thin layer of sweat and was exhausted from the recent activity both of them had been engaged in. Still, the touch felt nice and right.

"Did you feel any discomfort?" Thorin asked, brushing away a few strands of long golden locks and tucking them behind the other's oddly pretty elf ears.

At the gesture, his lover turned slightly and meeting Thorin's eyes, he let a gentle smile sweep across his lips.

"I feel none when I am with you,  _meleth,_ " replied the other as his eyes sparkled with mirth and delight and his smile grew reflecting the same.

At that, Thorin's heart skipped many paces and whatever composure he had attained quickly evaporated away while he looked deep into the clear blue orbs.

It was a feeling like no other. It was as if a great pull resided behind them—so alluring and charming that it could rival even the most deceitful of all sirens.

Thorin couldn't find in himself to tear his gaze away from his lover. It was an effect which the elf always had on him whenever they locked eyes.

From the very beginning, Thorin felt being drawn by a strong force residing behind those alluringly starry eyes, which shone brilliantly whenever the other laughed; whenever the other looked at him and  _him_   _alone_.

And to no amount of folly, it was moments like these that Thorin felt extremely proud to be the one to steal the wild heart of the much heeded Thranduil Oropherion – Prince of the Woodland Realm.

His attention was soon brought back to the present at the feel of slender fingers caressing the side of his face. His eyes flickered for a second before landing on Thranduil's face now shinning with amusement.

"What are you thinking?" The prince asked, barely tilting his head while his eyes searched for any traces of hint which could peep out of the dwarf's face.

Thorin drew in a breath and warmly gazed back as he replied meekly, "I wasn't thinking."

"Liar." Thranduil scoffed playfully, once again his face lighting up with a smile.

"Am I now?" Thorin defended with just as much playfulness before he drew closer to the elf prince's lips, tracing gentle kisses along the other's lower lip and jaw-line.

Thranduil's eyes fluttered shut and he was heard to let out a gentle hum before he lay on his back and allowed Thorin to indulge him.

As he reached the crook of Thranduil's neck, Thorin drew in the beautiful woody fragrance which was nothing but purely Thranduil. As his breath teased the other's skin, he felt Thranduil stretching slightly in an act of enjoyment before bringing an arm up and gently brushing through Thorin's own hair.

"A liar you say?" The dwarf prince whispered and almost shuddered himself when he felt a pleasurable quiver running down Thranduil's body. "But I speak the truth."

Thranduil didn't appreciate being interrupted. He moaned subliminally and pursed his lips as he said, "And what could the Prince under the Moutains be doing as he stares vastly into nothingness, I wonder!"

"A valid form of wonder, I must say!" Thorin smirked, clearly enjoying the little banter—one of many that had become a joyous part of their relationships.

"But may I enquire as to what valid action satisfies my valid form of wonder?" Thranduil asked back, now raising a sceptical brow as his inner instinct to try and outwit the opponent took hold of himself.

A chuckle soon escaped Thorin and he lifted his head up—much to Thranduil's annoyance—and held gazes with him.

At that, whatever tiny amount of sneer that had formed on the other's perfect face vanished swiftly before being replaced by an expression consisting nothing but love and devotion.

Now that he had Thranduil's full attention, Thorin pressed his lips against the other and let his hand stroke the other's chest as he responded in a sincere voice, "I wasn't thinking because I was looking at  _you._  I was  _worshipping_ you, my love."

His lips curled into a wide smile when he heard Thranduil gasp at his declaration.

"Thorin... _meleth_!" Thranduil tried speaking. His lips moved but were unable to form coherent words that would convey his emotions.

However, words weren't needed when silence and awe spoke it all.

"It's such a—I..." Thranduil struggled and with huge effort tried to command his tongue to break its numbness. His breath was heavy and those eyes which were usually so steady and focused now roamed all over Thorin's amused face as if to try and make the other  _see_ what he wished to speak, before giving up entirely.

Seeing his lover so exasperated, Thorin's smile doubled.

Now that Thranduil's mouth was hanging ajar, the dwarf prince couldn't help but feel a childlike amusement dawning over him when he took in Thranduil's eyes dancing with joy just as his cheeks flushed warmly against the light of a lantern.

"You do not approve?" He asked, circling his hand up and down Thranduil's chest.

"Oh of course I do  _meleth._  Of course I do! Do not ever have the slightest of doubt of my devotion to you or yours to mine!" Thranduil responded at an abrupt pace but let his eyes shift from Thorin's face immediately after, making Thorin's smile falter and furrow his brows lightly.

It was obvious that Thranduil was trying to hide his face for fear of unwittingly revealed emotions. However, he wasn't quick enough and even in the dim light—even for the briefest of moments—Thorin could catch a glimpse of the unmistakable apathy of sadness darkening Thranduil's orbs.

His furrow turned to a frown and he looked over at the elf with utter confusion.

Unable to keep it to himself, he enquired, "So then why the sudden gloom?"

Instead of answering, Thranduil sighed heavily and lowered his head a little, as if to completely hide from Thorin's strong vision.

"Thranduil, love?" Thorin called upon the other but when Thranduil didn't look up, he went on caressing the other's smooth chest while he said in a soothing voice, "Won't you tell me what bothers you?"

Still there was no reply. Instead, Thorin's ears picked up a sharp drawing in of breath and it made the dwarf prince's frown deepen with great concern.

He pressed a soft kiss to Thranduil's cheek and let one of his hand caress the elven prince in hopes of providing him some comfort.

"It's just..." After a long pause Thranduil finally spoke, his voice raspy and suddenly so full of weariness.

"Yes?" Throin prodded.

Satisfied that Thranduil was opening up, he went on caressing the elf with his hand, before resting it on Thranduil's stomach.

The other's body arched slightly at that before melting into relaxation. Another small pause stretched between the two of them and for a moment, neither of them attempted to break it.

It was what provided one with a sense of trust and support as he decided upon his words and as for the other, it simply urged him to go on providing the comfort which his lover obviously needed.

Throughout this entire time, Thorin was waiting patiently and even though his patience didn't linger even close to its borders, he was suddenly finding himself to be overwhelmed in anticipation. His frown deepened further and somehow, he could sense what it was that caused Thranduil to hesitate all so suddenly.

And with that sense, followed anxiety.

When he was about to address the other, Thorin's frown lightened as he felt a warm hand over his own.

At that he inhaled deeply, the overwhelming feeling suddenly magnifying within his heart and before he could think of doing anything else to lessen it, Thranduil's head straightened as the elf slowly turned to face his love.

"It's just that I do not feel I deserve so much of your devotion to me." Thranduil said softly, lifting his eyes which now flickered with hesitation.

"What do you mean? You deserve every bit of it!" The weight on Thorin's heart was increasing and by now, he was completely sure of what Thranduil was talking about.

"Thranduil, not everyone has the fortune to come by such a generous heart and a brave soul!" He reasoned, hoping to sooth the ache his lover felt, "It's not only because of your looks or what actions you can or cannot do. You know that, love!"

"But somehow it always comes to what I  _cannot_  do." Thranduil responded with a tact suddenness and from the way he looked at his lover— the intensity which bounced off from his eyes— it took all of Thorin's strength not to shed his tears.

Thranduil's face twisted slightly as the burden of his emotions finally overtook him. He brought his hand up and placed it on top of Thorin's, making his better half to look at him with great restraint and self control.

Closing his eyes, he went on in a voice which sounded heavier as grief seeped into its liveliness, breaking Thorin's heart all the more.

"So many times we have tried. So many times we have prayed. But to what effect?"

Thranduil's hand was now pressing down on his own, and thereby on the elf prince's stomach. With each word that was spoken, the pressure on Thorin's hand grew and the pressure in his heart was too much to make it beat with an uncanny pace.

"Thranduil."

Thorin didn't know what he could say. Thranduil was speaking of a pain he too shared equally—if not more.

He shook his head and trying his best to ignore the sting in his eyes, he began speaking.

"No Thorin!" However, Thranduil sharply cut him off and went on, his voice dripping with pain and anguish, "Do not try and deny it. I have seen it. I have seen how  _wistful_ you look whenever you're around your cousin's son! I have felt the void you feel whenever your mother speaks of you and your sister's childhood. I have seen the longing in your eyes when you think I don't notice. You can't deny what you feel,  _meleth._ "

Thranduil paused, his face now cracking with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. And as for Thorin, he too wasn't faring any better. It was taking him a great amount of discipline to restrain his reaction only to his erratic form of breathing.

Even though Thranduil's words pierced him like needles, he knew he couldn't let his grief take the better of him. He didn't want to add to the sorrow he had already caused the other! He didn't want to burden Thranduil with any more!

His heart was now weighed with another emotion. Anger.

Anger towards himself, towards his lack of self control...towards his defeat!

Oh how Thorin wished he could kick himself! If he had been a bit more vigilant, a bit more controlled around the elf prince, then his love would not have to let himself be eaten away by anguish and berate himself as he did now!

But Thranduil wasn't finished. Once more he stared at the other. And once more Thorin found himself unable to look away.

Thranduil's vision held agony and was being blurred by welled up tears. As for Thorin, his breathing was shallow and rapid and he didn't know just how much longer he could keep himself from breaking down.

Thranduil's lips were now trembling and before Thorin could have the chance of closing his eyes—anything to try and evade the sadness exuding from his love—he heard Thranduil ask with a quiet voice.

"If I'm that much worthy, then why can I  _not_ bear you a joy you deserve the most? Why can't I bear your child?"

And it was all it took to crush Thorin's heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Except the plot. That’s mine! 
> 
> Warning: Infertility.
> 
> AN: Explains why Thranduil was in Erebor to begin with and were they not at all obvious. The characters—particularly Thranduil—might seem a bit OOC but I’ve tried my best to keep all of them in character. And to redeem for making him a brute in MOL, I’m making Thrór a good guy here. He deserves some love, yeah? :D
> 
> Thank you to all who've commented/kudo'd/bookmarked. :D

 Thorin scrunched up his face at the bright morning light reaching into their room as the curtains blocking them swayed in a light breeze. He stretched himself and wearily placed a hand beside him.

His eyes opened immediately when all his hand felt was the cold touch of mattress and the wrinkles of two heavy sheets.

He moved his hand some more over the spot and as they did, they came up with the lack of warmth which should’ve been present.

True to his thought, Thranduil wasn’t there. He had not been for quite some while and it gave the dwarf prince more than enough incentive to sit up and look for his lover.

His eyes, though bleary, searched around their room frantically before they finally caught a glimpse of gold streaming with the breeze along with the curtains.

Soon enough his eyes adjusted to the tall and slender silhouette standing near one of the windows and Thorin was finally able to let go of his breath, which seemed to be caught in his lungs unbeknownst to the prince himself.

“Why do you linger there?” He asked, his voice cracking away the remnants of sleep. “Thranduil, come here. Come lie down.”

He looked insistently over at the other, hoping that Thranduil would heed him no matter how small a possibility it was. It certainly didn’t surprise Thorin in the least when all the elven price did was shift even closer to the windows.

“Come love? We still have a few hours before the day starts.” Thorin tried again but the glint of energy seen on his perked up shoulders vanished gradually when his pleas went unheeded.

He was about to get off from the bed himself. However, the sound of covers ruffling roused nothing but tenseness from the other, making Thorin shrink back in hoping that Thranduil would join him any moment on his own accord.

However, all Thranduil did was gently step away from the window and turn slowly. His eyes were staring straight at his better half but neither of them _looked_ into the pair of dark orbs. Instead, they somehow darkened even further at the hollowness in Thranduil’s gaze.

Thorin opened his mouth to speak but before he could do so, Thranduil turned away yet again and tipped his chin up, apparently choosing to focus on the carved ceiling instead.

The dwarf prince drew a sharp breath and turned his own face the other way as his teeth bit into his own lips. His face was the picture of concentration and determination—one that discouraged him not to weaken his demeanour; one that warned him not to let the sadness he felt seep past his carefully guarded barriers, regardless of how much his heart ached.

_Not in front of Thranduil._

 Not in front of one whom Mahal didn’t grace with the ability to create a new life.

And by Mahal, he would love to deny the chances of that with every bit of force he had in his body.

Suddenly a soft knock was heard against the heavy oak door causing Thorin to focus back on the present.

 He quickly set his face into one worthy of his royal stature and threw on his overcoat before looking over at Thranduil.

The elf was already clad in that of his own and was still not paying attention to the world around them.

Thorin’s heart felt a mild pang, seeing his lover standing frigidly at the very same spot. He so badly wanted to go and comfort him but whatever he was intending to do would have to wait as another busy round of knocking ripped his attention away from his _one_.

Rolling his eyes at the unwanted interruption, he finally said in an authoritative voice, “Enter.”

Moments later the door parted slightly, revealing a very meek attendant peeping in and out of the royal chamber.

“Yes?” Thorin prompted, making the attendant more confident in his stance as he fully entered into the room and bowed in courtesy.

“I wish his Highnesses a very good morning.” He said, throwing a hesitating look over at Thranduil who turned slightly at the sound of a foreign voice.

“What brings you here?” Thorin asked again, almost irritated at the other dwarf for letting his prying eyes roam. Though, deep within his heart, Thorin knew such a quiet scene—which exuded nothing but eeriness—would leave anybody uncomfortable and curious.

The attendant straightened at the impatient tone of the prince and spoke apologetically, “You Highness...His Majesty. H-he wants you to join him for a stroll in the garden.”

“In the garden?” Thorin repeated, raising a sceptical brow, causing the other dwarf to nod frantically.

“Y-yes. Um. Uh. Then later, I am to remind you that you and His Highness are expected at the dining hall for breakfast.”

“Is that all?” Thorin was sounding bored and he was, in fact, unappreciative of being disturbed so early in the morning for nothing that required his immediate attention save for the one soul standing behind him.

The attendant straightened up— suddenly making Thorin to narrow his eyes in confusion— before he spoke with as much hesitance as he had initially, “The king wants to make sure that the guest of Erebor should have no trouble.” He paused for a bit, shifting his eyes over to Thranduil who regarded him illegibly before he went on, “So am I to...uh, um...”

“No we require nothing, thank you.” Thorin answered on behalf of his lover, not missing the look of confusion and traces of appreciation from the attendant and the elf respectively.

He waited for the other to leave and when he didn’t, Thorin rolled his eyes and waved a hand in dismissal at which, the other dwarf bowed and gently paced out of the room, closing the door behind him.

When he was sure of no further interruptions, Thorin slowly made way towards the elven prince and laid a hand on his lower back.

Thranduil initially gave off no reaction. But as moments went by, he finally acknowledged Thorin’s warm touch and began turning slowly to face his love.

Thorin swore he felt his heart wrenching when he looked directly at those usually starry eyes. They were so ghastly and so blank that it had taken Thorin all of his strength not to flinch.

“You got me scared there for a while!” He spoke, trying to bring some mirth in his voice but failing miserably. “I thought you went back to Greenwood when I didn’t see you behind those curtains.”

At that, Thranduil’s eyes _had_ flinched a little as they were shifted away from Thorin’s face. Thorin was about to be disappointed yet again but he was hopeful immediately when those blue eyes landed on him.

Thranduil seemed to regard him for a while, the blankness in his gaze very slowly beginning to fade away as he spoke in a barely audible tone, “Perhaps I should.”

“What was that?” Thorin asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

Surely he didn’t hear what he thought he had heard?

“I should return to our realm.” Thranduil repeated, this time a bit more surely. The blankness in his eyes was gone now. In its stead, they were veiled with something other than just sadness, none of which lessened the pang Thorin felt in his heart.

Thranduil faced his lover fully and Thorin now could see the clarity in the other’s vision. The haze had evaporated completely and all that remained was a sharp ray of tact. And to Thorin, it was as harsh as winter.

With an eerily steady voice Thranduil continued, “I have been here longer than I should have been. My father expects me to report to him. He must be getting worried.”

“But surely you can’t expect me to believe that it is all a coincidence!” Thorin protested, his voice bordering on exasperation as he regarded the other with wild eyes. “Thranduil, don’t be like this!”

“Oh Thorin.” Thranduil responded with soft eyes. Just then the cold mask that he had put on to veil his disappointment eroded away and left all his emotions bare as his eyes flickered to hold down the unshed tears.

“You are worried,” Thorin began after a while hardly controlling the tremble he had in his voice, “We can try. We can try again. There is no saying that one can conceive after only a few tries! We shall attempt again and we shall be successful.”

Thranduil smiled and shook his head in sympathy.

“What?” Thorin asked, completely unaware of the naïve hopefulness in his eyes that enacted such a reaction from the other.

“You’ll see. We shall have heirs and you and I shall forever be with each other! We just need time!” He went on and the more buoyant he became, the more Thranduil’s eyes became burdened with sorrow.

Mirth fading from his eyes and face grim, Thorin’s words died down while he regarded the other with flickering eyes. It appeared as if he was searching for something. Exactly _what_ it was, was still unknown by their owner.

Perhaps he looked for volition. Validation, optimism— _anything—_ from his lover’s face. But when the staidness from it did all but disappear, Thorin understood just how improbable his expectation was.

His hand slid down from Thranduil’s back and lay limp by his side. His eyes became downcast.

“We need time.”

And even though he spoke, the positive influence in his voice was swiftly dwindling away, leaving a hollow shell of promises and prospect.

He felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. He closed his eyes, sighing heavily as the gentle tone of Thranduil entered his ears.

“And a healer’s advice.”

At that, Thorin tightened his eyes shut and brought his hand to place on top of the other. He gave it an affectionate squeeze.

The heaviness was still set in his heart; despair still raw but suddenly, he found a glimmer of faith touching it.

Thorin was once more hopeful.

 

* * *

 

 

Thrór was enjoying the bright morning sun when sounds of heavy but poised footsteps echoed from the paved path. He straightened himself on his chair and let out a smile as the figure of his grandson emerged from behind the blooming rose bushes.

“Ah Thorin!” He greeted, opening his arms for an embrace.

Thorin smiled back and hugged his grandfather as he said courteously, “Good morning, Sire. Has Your Majesty slept well last night?”

“Oh stop, you!” Thrór chuckled, patting Thorin’s back. “Don’t be so formal with me. I’m your grandfather, not some bloody stiff-arsed king!”

Thorin smiled slightly and said, “You wanted to see me, Grandfather?”

”As a matter of fact, I did.” Thrór said, motioning for Thorin to take up seat beside him. “I wanted to tell you how apt Greenwood has been represented. King Oropher surely sent his _best_ to strengthen our relation.”

He didn’t miss the light blush spreading across Thorin’s cheek at the mention of a certain someone and even stifled a grin when he saw how hard his grandson tried to control his facial expressions.

“Yes, Prince Thranduil is very smart.” Thorin replied with an unnatural stiffness which made Thrór all the more sure.

“Yes, indeed.” The king replied, regarding the other. “I heard that he has found his ‘one’.”

His eyes twinkled brilliantly when the rumours were confirmed to be true by the darkening blush of his successor.

Thorin opened his mouth, preparing to say something in return or deny it all blatantly but Thrór gave him no such chance by beginning to speak, “In fact, the past diplomatic visits made _you_ livelier and more _accommodating._ I must say Thorin. I’m appalled to be the last one to know about this!”

At his declaration, Thorin’s head snapped upwards and his eyes grew wider than the parting of his jaws.

“W-what?”

“Yes, I know. Dís informed me.” Thrór smiled, gently slapping the other’s cheeks. “Close that mouth, Grandson. I’ve suspected it for a long time and I couldn’t be any happier.”

It took Thorin some time to relax and get accustomed to the new revelation before he relaxed at last and let out a huge smile, “I thank you for your blessing. Yes, we have been in a very stable relationship and we love each other very much.”

Thrór nodded and paused for a while, as if wondering the best way to phrase his next line of thought.

After a beat or two, he spoke again voicing his query, “Thorin you know you are the next in line since Thráin...“

He had trailed off and caught the firm responsive nod from the other. There was no need to elaborate on a tragedy that happened on one of their conquests.

He inhaled deeply and went on, “After you, we need to ensure the next in line. So...can you manage that?”

He saw Thorin’s eyes squinting slightly in bafflement before they widened with realization of the exact nature of Thrór’s hint.

“Yes. Yes we have...he has...that facility. The lore is true.”

In response, Thrór’s features loosened up visibly.

“And have you been...engaging?”

He expected Thorin to blush. He expected his grandson to stutter. But when Thorin stiffened with an unease about him, Thrór had the feel of something swirling within his heart. Something grim and foreboding, which made him anticipate with extreme discomfort.

“Thorin?”

He called again and still Thorin remained silent.

The swirls in his chest increased and he was about to change the topic when Throin spoke.

“We have been trying.”

His voice was deep and grave. Qualities Thrór knew to bring no good news and they only sealed the growing dread he was suspecting.

“How long since?” Thrór asked. When Thorin hesitated, he asked again with more demand, “Thorin, since how long have you been trying?”

His grandson lowered his eyes and narrowed them while he replied in mere whispers, “Long enough.”

The swirl became more violent and before long, numbness swept over Thrór’s heart as he regarded the defeated form of the younger dwarf.

Just then it all became clear. The gravity of the situation dawning on him, his eyes flickered as he now had to come in terms of a terrible truth.

A pregnant pause hung over the ambiance and not a sound was made from either of them. After a long while, when the shock had almost been subdued, Thrór’s gaze sharpened and the king asked with a cold directness.

“Can he conceive?”

Another bout of silence stretched between the two and after what it had seemed like forever, Thorin finally replied in a very quiet voice.

“ _No_.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Tolkien and New Line Cinema. I don’t make any profit off this.   
> Warning: P.O.V shifts.   
> AN: I’m sorry for the long delay. There were some assignments I had to complete and some which were really being difficult! Buuut, here’s the next installment.  
> To those who've commented/bookmarked/sent kudos, thank you so much. It's very encouraging to know you like it. :)
> 
> Now the important bit.
> 
> I really like to thank [Nerwen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerwen/pseuds/Nerwen) for letting me use her idea of dwarf-elf incompatibility. Now, I’m not going to use it as the actual reason but only for diagnostic purposes. Because back in those days, you couldn’t nail it in one go, right? Nor can you do it all the time in today’s world.   
> Hopefully, I can come up with a proper explanation to this mess in the upcoming chapters.

“Where do you take me?” Thranduil asked, baffled by the suddenness by which he was being dragged down the corridors.

Thorin seemed like paying no heed and instead trudged forward. The way he had burst in the room and almost forced Thranduil along was more than a mere indication of something bothering the dwarf prince and Thranduil had no clue what it was!

“Thorin, where am I being taken to?” He asked again and this time, his voice ranged from simple curiosity to a minimal hint of authority.

Again he received no response. Not of a verbal nature anyway for Thorin’s pace increased and with it the pull on Thranduil’s hand, making the elven prince crouch down even more uncomfortably.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes quizzically at the sudden ineptitude of his love and let his face contort to a particularly sharp wince when he felt another hard tug at his arm.

His eyes widened in apprehension before settling to an expression of ‘narrow escape’ as they turned a corner. The turn being sudden and Thranduil having nearly been collided against a pillar, blue eyes squint yet again before they suddenly flashed with a bout of pride and royalty as he planted a firm step on the ground and pulled his hand away.

As a result of his momentum Thorin hurled backward and turned sharply, glaring at the one who caused this unnecessary action, only to be faced with a steady yet hard gaze from his love, causing him to falter in his stance a bit.

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór,” Thranduil spoke in a nonnegotiable tone, “I _demand_ to know where you are taking me.”

His eyes flickered with an objection when Thorin was about to say something defensive. Raising  his chin with a mild arrogance, he looked at the other with every bit of the royalty he had in him and made it abundantly clear that he was _not_ moving till he had received the truth.

At that, Thorin’s glare softened, replaced by a frown as he hummed and hawed something in mere whispers.

“Pardon?” Thranduil’s forehead marred a frown of its own as he tilted his head and let his perceptive blue eyes sweep all over the other’s sudden stiff demeanour.

Slowly Thorin’s stance became more confident as his eyes sharpened, and he spoke with an uncanny determination, “The healer’s.”

As a response, Thranduil’s frown disappeared and his eyes flashed simultaneously at the insolence Thorin had displayed. Soon they settled on the other burning with a fire of anger and pride.

“ _Why_?” He hissed, his blue eyes flickering with unspoken words that he so wished to shout at his _better_ half.

“I’d like them to take a look at you.” Thorin replied unfazed which made Thranduil all the more furious.

“A look at _me_?” Blue orbs tapered dangerously as a sharp sneer crossed his mouth. “You want your healer to take a look at _me_? Test _me_ to see if _I_ have a problem?”

Thorin was preparing to form a reply but was abruptly cut off by Thranduil whose eyes by then flared with pride and fury as his ego was taking an injurious blow.

“You assume that it is I who has a problem? Never once did you consider of you lacking in efficiency! How _dare_ you?”

He had not known why he got so defensive all of a sudden. Why just hours before he was upset for his lack of potency and why it was like an insult to him when _Thorin_ addressed the same!

Was it because he was scared to face the truth? A discouraging answer?

“Because up till this morning, you _yourself_ acknowledged that it is most likely _you_ who might have a problem!” Thorin defended, his expression practically screaming out the confusion and surprise at Thranduil’s change in tone.

Thranduil’s head snapped up as his eyes flickered unsteadily while he tried to comprehend and possibly formulate a reply that he would consider apt to shove in Thorin’s face.

However Thorin’s body language took a drastic transformation causing Thranduil’s gaze upon him to remain defiant but _this_ time, with gradual amount of sublimation.

Thorin shook his head and took a deep breath before he went on as calmly as possible, “If it is not you, then it is me. Either way, we shall have an answer.”

Thranduil’s eyes were still unsettling and were piercing into the other. He tried _desperately_ to look for some sort of invalidation to Thorin’s point. _Anything_ that would require him to evade an examination.

Perhaps he was _afraid_ to face reality. Perhaps he was not ready to hear how futile it was for him to hope for any chances of bearing a child.

But the way Thorin was looking at him...the way he was optimistic and hopeful...it was _crushing_ Thranduil to refuse.

 Eventually, the tempest in those bright orbs of blue subsided and made way for a softness and gentleness. His own posture became less rigid and more compliant.

 “And with proper treatment,” seeing the obvious victory on his part Thorin insisted earnestly, “We shall have a future.”

It was all that Thranduil needed as the remnants of his hostility swiftly left his stance and whatever apprehension he felt drained away from his eyes, which were slowly moulding into obedience and understanding.

He sighed heavily and held Thorin’s gaze for a moment longer before slowly nodding in agreement.

The look of pure relief he received from Thorin and a tender kiss that was placed on his hand was something he knew he would cherish for the rest of his life.

And the way Thorin lead him on, clasping hands quickly brought a light smile on his face— one that would be sweetly tucked away by his _meleth_ to cherish for the rest of _his_ life.

 

* * *

 

 

“I know not much of elven anatomy. However, a possible explanation might be that our races are simply not compatible,” said the healer looking up to his prince as he completed his examination of Thranduil.

He didn’t miss the subtle deflation given off from Thorin. When he looked over at the elf, he didn’t have the galls of _ignoring_ the dimmed hope given off from the face of his current patient who quickly tore gazes and looked straight ahead at a nearby wall.

He sighed and approached Thorin, unsure of the best way of how he could put it in words. He certainly didn’t want to offend his future provider and his nation’s pride but it was already a delicate situation to begin with.

“In order to be at least partially sure,” he hesitated and paused when he felt Thorin’s attention upon him, “I require examining Your Highness too. Only because I’m familiar with _our_ anatomy more and can provide you _some_ form of answer.” He quickly added so as not to hurt the pride of his prince.

A tense silence spread its wings in the small room and the ones who were most affected by it stayed still for a long while, not meeting gazes with any of the others. Just when it was getting too terse and uncomfortable, Thorin finally nodded and asked for Thranduil to be escorted out before he was to be tested.

Though, it was too early for the healer to feel settled. Closing the door behind Thranduil, he sighed and washed his hands. He sincerely _hoped_ Thorin was potent enough...no matter how much his unbiased side argued with him.

 

* * *

 

“Your Highness.”

Thranduil was back in their room and was currently leaning back against a chair. His attention was quickly caught by an attendant, calling out to him while knocking on their door.

“Your Highness.” The attendant sounded urgent enough and hence, Thranduil finally rose from his seat and went over to hear what he had to say.

He had just barely opened the door when he caught the panic-stricken look on the dwarf’s face. The way he was shown courtesy was frenzied at best and it was ingraining a massive confusion in his heart and mind that he certainly unwelcomed.

Should he have waited for Thorin? Was it his place to receive a message on his behalf?

“Yes?” He urged the other to speak and tilted his head in anticipation. After all, what could have the dwarf so worried and fearful?

 The attendant swallowed thickly and seemed to be really hesitating which made Thranduil doubt all the more.

“Prince Thorin is not here right now.” He provided, earnestly willing for no news of an oncoming danger.

The other shook his head and stared at him with uncertainty. And at that, Thranduil was most relieved to find that his request was granted by the Valar. However his bliss was momentary as fret soon gripped his heart yet again when the stiffness of the other didn’t go away.

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed as doubt etched itself on his face. All of a sudden, he felt his heart racing with a growing dread and trepidation. His face grew thicker with anticipation as he felt himself giving off an intense stare at the other, causing him to be even more jumpy than he initially was.

“Well?” Thranduil prodded on and prayed for no misgiving to occur. However, his scepticism was not soothed but only enhanced when the other went on swallowing thickly and biting his lips.

Finally the dwarf sighed out heavily. Looking up at Thranduil with fearful eyes, he started weakly, “Your Highness, I bear news. It concerns you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I shall have something by the end of the week.” The healer said calmly as Thorin went to remove the clothes he had been given for the examination.

Throughout the process, the dwarf prince had given apt and exact answers regarding his family history and that of his own with a surprising amount of steadiness. The healer had seen many; he had examined many. While others blushed for the most trivial of answers, Thorin was unhesitant and _determined_.

It was as if he _wanted_ an answer at any rate! He even _checked_ his pride and that spoke a lot about how much he truly loved the elf from Greenwood. In all his years of healing, the other dwarf truly was baffled to witness such devotion!

Thorin was done dressing and he was about to be advised on some diet when suddenly the door was rapped frantically.

“Please give us a minute.” The healer answered, clearly annoyed at how his kin could be so hard-headed and ignorant when it came to courtesy.

His level of annoyance increased when another round of hurried knocks battered the door, causing him to roll his eyes with a mind to let the other know the meaning of _patience._

It became apparent that the other had no intention of waiting for a second longer. So, with a swift glance towards Thorin and satisfied that the other was fully dressed, he proceeded to open the door only to be shoved roughly by another dwarf.

He opened his mouth to object but was paid no heed as the other had the sole intention of capturing Thorin’s focus.

“My prince.” He sounded desperate, urgent and out of air. As if he had been running a great distance with tremendous speed— beyond what his legs allowed him to— which only confirmed the importance of the issue. His state was validated by his flushed and sweaty face and all of these put together _immediately_ caused Thorin to lend his full attention.

“My prince,” The dwarf said, sparing a glance at the healer before licking his lips. It was obvious he was extremely nervous and imparted a great deal of it to Thorin whose face hardened with anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, the dwarf clenched his fists. Deciding not to cause more delay to the inevitable, he continued with a nervous tone, “The King of Greenwood has sent a letter.”

His heart was now clouded with fear of unknown intentions. The room became strained with tension once more and had he glanced at the faces of the other two, he’d surely observe the effects of unknown fret showing itself quite blatantly.

Inhaling shakily, the other closed his eyes and delivered the main message. And quite honestly, none of the words ever spoken bore so much uncertainty and unease than those which were about to escape his mouth. “King Oropher is on his way. He arrives in two days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...definitely not going into details about how the tests were conducted. ‘Cause I have NO idea how they did it back in those days. Let’s just pretend dwarves have awesome methods.
> 
> **Okay, another important bit.**
> 
> You guys are probably wondering why Thranduil was so defensive, right? Well, I figured he has a great amount of self-respect. He wouldn’t like to hear his failure from someone else’s mouth. Be it Thorin. You know...pride issues.   
> ‘Cause he does have pride and he should! And also, as I’ve pointed out in the chapter, he is mainly afraid to hear that he CAN’T because that’d be final and would completely crush him.
> 
> So...I’d really love to know what you think so far. (I really hope it’s not getting too confusing and waaaaaay too out of hands! D:) I’m open to all suggestions and constructive criticisms. Please review. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Tolkien and New Line Cinema. I don’t make any profit off this. 
> 
> Warning: P.O.V shifts. 
> 
> AN: So I realize that Thranduil might be...well, probably is a bit (or a lot) OOC. Yeah, he is young and given his situation, it’s hard for him to be sassy. I’m trying my best not to overdo it but if you feel he’s being a wimp, do let me know. :)

Thorin rushed through the corridors and marched straight ahead, not bothering about anyone or anything that might get in his way. He took turns blindly and was thankful that no one was scoffed by his utter disregard of passageway.

 If they were, he paid no heed. For in his mind, there was one chant and one chant alone: see Thranduil.

* * *

Doors burst open and in flew Thorin. His eyes were wide and breath rapid from the hurried steps he undertook to reach their room. No sooner had he taken two steps towards the elf, he found himself almost being run over by the other.

Thranduil swooped in and knelt on the floor, hugging Thorin’s stout frame tightly and as his one buried his face at the crook of his neck, Thorin felt himself vibrating lightly from the shakes coming off from the elven prince.

“Thranduil, gather yourself.” He said, soothingly placing a hand on his love’s back. He had hoped that Thranduil would somewhat calm down; instead, all it did was increase the force on his lungs as Thranduil’s embrace became comparable to hold on life itself.

“Calm down, my love. We must speak and for that you must be composed.” He tried again, doing circling motions with his hand on the elf’s back.

At that, Thranduil’s tremors lessened and ever so slowly he released the grip on Thorin’s self before coming to view the dwarf prince’s face with widened eyes of his own.

“ _Adar’s_ coming, Thorin.” Thranduil spoke, his voice bearing every essence of foreboding and his eyes shimmering with unthinkable fear of the outcome. “He will be here soon.”

Instinctively, Thorin placed a kiss on Thranduil’s temples and cupped his cheeks.

“I know. I received word of his arrival.” He replied, gently caressing Thranduil’s cheeks with his thumbs. He proceeded to press his forehead against the other when Thranduil placed his own palms on top of his hands. 

“You know what it means.” Thranduil looked desperate. Even as he spoke, the helplessness and fraught were clearly audible as his tone shook with trepidation.

For his own part, a frown crossed Thorin’s brows.

Yes. He did know what it all meant.

It wasn’t about Oropher _discovering_ their relationship. Thorin suspected that the king was well aware. Such diplomatic visits could be easily carried out by advisors.

What worried him was: Oropher _never_ left Greenwood. For him to undertake such a journey— _especially_ when his son was in Erebor _himself_ —could conclude to one thing and it was such that neither Thorin nor Thranduil dared to acknowledge.

As if to confirm his fear, Thranduil shifted one of his palms and gently entwined their fingers. Thorin was unsure of what the elf wanted to do. He supposed his lover was extremely distressed that he sought some form of comfort. So he let his hand be taken but frowned in confusion the moment after when Thranduil lowered their clasped hands and gently placed them on the flat of his stomach.

 “He must no longer hold patience.” Thranduil spoke softly, lowering his eyes before closing them fully just as he pressed their hands on his womb. “If we have no answer, I fear we shall have no future.”

Thorin’s face contorted into a tight expression as a pressure was building up deep within his heart. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he feared a day such as this and now that he was having to face it, he did all but shatter in sorrow.

He nodded slowly and placed a tender kiss on Thranduil’s temples. It was not much, but a small gesture of comfort and support. At their present state, even a miniscule amount of it seemed like a grateful quantity.

“We have two days. There’s time. We will have an answer,” he pointed out as factually as he could but Thranduil was no fool to be misguided by the sheer force of emotions powering through Thorin’s throat.

Thorin bent down slightly and tipped the chin of his lover and stared at him for a while. The pressure in his chest grew manifolds as a pair of bright orbs looked up at him as well.

The intense emotions they portrayed...the deep infliction of grief they bore...it took all of his strength and will for Thorin not to breakdown in front of the other.

“And if we have none,” He went on, tenderly claiming the other’s lips in a reassuring kiss, “We shall find other means and we shall convince everyone.”

Thranduil sighed out heavily and stroke Thorin’s cheek with his free hand as a small ghost of a smile graced his lips. He lifted their clasped hands, placed a loving kiss on Thorin’s knuckles and as he spoke, his eyes and voice were perceptible with unshed tears. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Thorin replied back, his voice cracking with grief and uncertainty as he again claimed Thranduil’s lips, showering him his entire love and affection.

He was no miser... especially now, when they both knew that perhaps this moment they shared could be their last. 

* * *

 

In his chambers, King Thrór was pacing about.

Millions of questions bubbled in his foreseeing mind and millions of outcome showed themselves but not a single one of them provided him with what he needed.

With decades gone and still no signs of any heir, the halls of Erebor already started whispering rumours and fears of Erebor’s fall after the last line of Durin. They were already growing weary of the elf. Already they started their quite disapproval of Thorin’s choice of mate and his race. Some even _dared_ to point fingers on Thorin’s potency.

Thrór admittedly had some idea of Thorin’s relationship with Thranduil. Though, he came to know the serious nature of it from Dís, later confirmed by Thorin as well. However, she wasn’t the source who had _provided_ him the news. Thrór’s ears had picked up the ghost of words floating around his people long before she had burst in his room that one day and spoke of her findings in excitement.

Thrór knew. DÍs merely made it factual.

Now the situation was comparable to a tipping scale. No matter what decision he’d choose, it’d only satisfy one side and leave the other with gashes of disappointment. The question was: which side would he choose to weigh down?

His grandson or his people?

He paused in his gait as a careful knock was made at his door. Wondering who it could be, he frowned a little before commanding in a proper tone, “Enter.”

Confusion graced him immediately after as his eyes caught a meek form peeking his head from the door, looking nervous and extremely out of place.

The chamber was dimly lit and from the light of a single lamp, the other’s shadow fell on the wall adjacent to the door making the ambience all the more eerie.

“Show yourself.” He straightened up, increasing the level of authority in his tone.

The figure took a few more moments before slowly stepping out of the shadows. As he approached the king in a rather polite and hesitant way, Thrór felt his eyebrows rising as he recognized his most unlikely visitor.

“My apologies for interrupting you, my king.”

It was the royal healer.

 Out of all, what could _he_ want with him at that hour?

Unknowingly, Thrór’s frown deepened. His mind suddenly raced to come up with every possible explanation of the healer’s presence and with each one being replaced by the next, he found his heart growing more and more unsteady as an unknown fear began weaving threads in it.

“What do you require?” He asked, prompting the other to keep it short and precise.

The healer quickly bowed and stroked his beard thoughtfully as if he was contemplating whether or not he should deliver whatever there was to be delivered.

“Make it quick!” Thrór couldn’t help but hiss at the other. The healer suddenly wincing to his tone also didn’t go unnoticed; however Thrór was helpless.

 With each fleeting moment, the anxiety in his heart grew larger and larger, as each of the rumours he had heard—especially those concerning his own _blood_ —seemed to become more and more real.

The healer obeyed and with a final bit of hesitation painted on his face, he informed timidly, “This morning, I had been asked to examine His Highness and the elven prince, My Lord.”

He paused, seemingly sighing out as Thrór’s fully attentive eyes awaited him to continue.

“I have not conducted in any confirmatory tests.” The healer spoke, now rubbing his hands as nervousness overtook him. “However, so far from what I’ve seen, it is not the prince’s fault. He is in perfect shape.”

With that, Thrór let out a breath which he unknowingly held as relief was showered all over him. He silently thanked Mahal for preserving his face and the prestige of his blood. Only Aüle knew what shame would befall on all of them if Thorin indeed was impotent!

However, his relief was short-lived. When his eyes caught the still fidgeting healer rubbing his hands harder and biting his lips, the feeling of uncertainty and the silent formation of dread crept slowly back into his heart and mind.

“Is there more?” He urged, swallowing thickly as unsteady eyes flickered all over the figure of the other dwarf.

At that, said other let out another sigh which was graver than the last one and closed his eyes.

Their shadows were flickering with the light as light brushes of breeze taunted the flame. The air seemingly grew thicker and the darkness in the room apparently enhanced much like the moods of its occupants.

Just when the silence was becoming unbearable, the healer finally spoke up, looking up hesitantly as unspoken words of apology covered his entire form.

“But...the elf is not.”

Thrór’s eyes became frigid with hopelessness while those words panged his heart.

He didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t like the option which he’d be forced to choose.

“I’ve told the prince that this is because of how incompatible we are. That my knowledge on elven anatomy is limited. However, I am certain that such is not the case here.” The healer paused, taking his time as he delivered the final words, tasting bitterness as each rolled out of his tongue. “The elf is infertile. He shall never bear children.”

Thrór closed his eyes and shook his head. Each breath he took became shuddered and each time he inhaled, he felt his lungs being crushed by the pressure he felt in his heart.

“And as long as His Highness is with him, he shall never have an heir.”

The king took steps back and slumped heavily on a nearby chair. He sat there for a while and upon hearing the other’s concerned voice, he waved his hand in dismissal before supporting his head on it.

It was now obvious to him which side he’d choose. This was what he was dreading. This was what he wanted to deny. However, with growing pressure of his people, Thrór found no other way of going around this problem.

If he went with his instincts, he’d be shamed. His kin and his grandson would be humiliated and it’d eventually lead to riots and protests and ultimately, their dynasty.

No. As much as he hated it, this was inevitable.

Thrór would _have_ to choose his people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : I was thinking of banishment but that’d be too cruel...and it might be a premise of another fic. ^^; Who knows? But for now, please review!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to those who own the rights which belong to them. A.k.a Not me.
> 
> AN: Serious stuff ahead!
> 
> Many thanks to those who've taken the time to comment/bookmark/kudo. Thank you :)

Thranduil was striding down the hallway and each step he took brought him closer to a destination of which he had no idea. The one leading him said nothing either. He was simply asked to follow at an urgent notice and considering the way he was asked, Thranduil decided to put on his best clothes.

As they headed down further interior to the palace, however, his decision was proven right. Thranduil was new to this wing of the palace but from the embellished décor and the lack of servants, he gathered that they must be in one of the private wings of the palace, reserved for the senior members of the family.

He sighed looked about, hoping to get any sign of what he would be subjected to.

"Where am I being taken?" He finally asked when curiosity got the better of him, only to be received by a stone-cold silence.

His eyes flashed with arrogance as Thranduil's sense of pride was not given proper respect. Lifting his chin, he frowned and asked again in a tone much more haughty, "I am the Prince of Greenwood, dwarf and I  _demand_ to know where I am going!"

In response, they both halted in front of a heavily furnished door and the dwarf who had been leading, slightly turned towards Thranduil, jerking his head a little, motioning for the elf to go inside.

Before Thranduil could ask anything else, the dwarf took his leave, leaving him standing all alone in front of the door as a strange and uncertain feeling overtook him.

He softly knocked and stood straight, running his fingers through his hair to ensure he was perfectly presentable. By the events which were unravelling all so suddenly, he expected who it was on the other side of the door...and truth be told, he was least keen to want to meet him.

Finally, a deep voice was heard granting him permission and Thranduil gingerly placed his hands on the door, opening it with just as much hesitance while he stepped in.

Much to his amusement, he found his guess to be right for the second time that morning.

"Greetings, Your Majesty." He humbly acknowledged the occupant of the chamber and graced him with a courteous bow, all the while battling with himself to keep his composure.

Four days had passed since they had visited the healer and Thranduil could not help but wonder why he was being summoned by the king of Erebor himself when they were supposed to be preparing for his father's arrival.

Speaking of which...why hadn't his father arrived?

At Thrór's gesture, Thranduil straightened and set his eyes on the king. Thrór was strong and determined as always. Being so close to him without Thorin's presence was  _indeed_  a little intimidating.

"I was told of an urgent matter." Thranduil initiated, hoping that Thrór would soon come to point. He stiffened soon after when the other's eyes fell on him,  _analyzing_ him with a gravity which only attributed to a powerful king and an over protective grandfather.

A notion which did least to soothe him, especially as a cloud of anxiety began casting over his already thrumming heart.

He didn't know how long had he been standing there, poised yet stiff—conscious of a pair sharp eyes reading into him— but he did feel extremely certain that should it continue, Thranduil would soon lose his calm and appear the undignified mess he already was deep within.

Finally much to his relief, Thrór spoke up.

"I was informed of your examination."

A small flinch was elicited from him as a reaction while Thranduil tried his best not to let his impervious mask slip away.

He swallowed lightly and nodded, unable to ignore the flutter inside his stomach as Thrór's intense gaze again befell on him.

"I was informed of the result as well." The King went on, taking a few steps towards the other as his voice remained level.

Thranduil felt a growing uneasiness and suddenly, he began feeling unwell. He was overwhelmed as his heart began thrumming loudly against his ears; his mouth went dry and within his chest, a cold sharp void swirled around, leaving him feeling so...queasy!

Thrór took his time and even though Thranduil wanted to yell at him and get it over with, he had to remain still for the sake of courtesy, no matter how much his intuition prodded him in the opposite direction.

The dwarf king probably saw the impatience escaping through his carefully guarded demeanour and decided to be done with it.

"It is not Thorin." He said with exceptional clarity—exactly what Thranduil wanted, but not what he desired. "It's you."

Thranduil's eyes grew bigger as a wall of ice crashed mercilessly on his heart. A cold feeling engulfed him as he stood frozen, revelling at the words that he heard.

It couldn't be. It  _couldn't_  be!

He opened his mouth but all that came out was a gust of dry air. His lips moved but he could not speak. His mind screamed, but his throat hid his voice.

His breathe became rapid, heart beat increasing in pace and sound, blood rushed away from his face and his hands trembled while his mind still tried grasping what he knew all along.

How could they know? How could they be so sure?

He thought frantically, wide eyes looking to and fro the floor.

How could they conclude so surely when none of them knew how the body of an elf worked? Why did they have to lie to him? How cruel could the Valar be so unkind that they had taken away the last shrivel of hope Thranduil was clinging to?

Once more his heart ached as it was twisted by a new realization.

If Thranduil was unable to bear any children, what would become of them? What would become of their future?

Unshed tears stung in his eyes. His vision grew unclear as he took unsteady steps away from Thrór. Even if the king called out to him or provided him a support of some kind, Thranduil didn't acknowledge. His mind was too clouded and his heart was too much in pain to be conscious of everything else around him.

The air grew so thick and so heavy. His lungs were burning as his breaths grew shallower by the second. It was so suffocating!

His insides fluttered yet again and his head swayed slightly when a bout of darkness descended down his eyes.

His feet became more unsure as he stumbled his way back, only to be colliding against something heavy with his back.

With the sudden impact, he found little clarity in his vision and continued retreating, swaying dangerously with each step.

He seemed so worse that even Thrór was rushing forward to assist him but Thranduil could care less. Flinching away from the king, he somehow made out of the chamber and once he did, Thranduil was determined to head for his room—even if he had to cling to the walls for support.

He needed privacy. He needed to be alone.

_It's over...there is no hope._

He tumbled and swayed dangerously, his head spinning on and off with spells of darkness coming down his eyes.

He was exhausted from the walk back and frankly, had there been no walls to support him, Thranduil was unsure how he'd reach his chamber.  _If_ he would reach at all.

A few more steps...

Right in front of the turning where the slab of wall ended, familiar wooden doors came to view, bringing Thranduil a great amount of relief.

Finally he could be alone!

Mustering up all his strength, he felt the walls with his hands. But...even this simple act was turning into an extremely tedious one. A frown creased his brow as Thranduil was again overtaken by fatigue.

His head...oh his head! It was spinning so uncontrollably and suddenly, all other sounds seemed to die down while his ears echoed off his own beating heard.

His hands were shaking. His knees were far too weak...still he carried on.

Another step...another one...

His breathing was laboured and the uneasy feeling in his chest was too cumbersome to handle.

Slamming against the door, he managed to open it and instead of registering pain where he collided, he stumbled frantically towards the bed as his head felt extremely light.

His knees were buckling and feet extremely misleading, they tangled with themselves, causing Thranduil to trip and fall uncontrollably.

His eyes were seeing darkness; the sounds were becoming more and more muffled and his heart beat so wildly that it almost caused him pain in his chest.

At the very last moment, he flailed his arms and somehow managed to hold on to  _something,_ thus breaking his speed.

As he hurled, he felt dragging away a piece of fabric, followed by the sound of metals as they clinked and clattered.

His senses numbed away, his head extremely light and dizzy as his grip on the fabric loosened with a forceful lethargy. And as he was fully engulfed by darkness, Thranduil fell on to the floor, gently slipping away into a state of unconsciousness.

* * *

A soft hum escaped his lips as he turned towards the warmth he felt on his cheek. It was so warm and so gentle...so familiar and loving that Thranduil subconsciously couldn't help himself from nuzzling against the touch.

He sighed when he felt nimble fingers brushing his scalp and as comforting the feeling was, he frowned at the oddity of it.

He distinctively remembered being all alone in the room.

He drew his hands closer and pulled up the sheet to cover himself better, only to have his confusion enhanced in the form of a deep frown.

_Sheets?_

That meant he was in a bed! And not alone!

Blue eyes flew open as he sat up, bewilderment marring every bit of his delicate feature while he looked around.

It was their room. But he was on a bed! He didn't remember reaching the bed to even begin with! He passed out on the floor...

His eyes widened even further when he felt a touch on his shoulder, tugging him backwards, urging him to lie down.

That touch...that familiar touch...

He turned his face slightly, narrowing his eyes when he took note of a slender hand which surely didn't belong to any dwarf!

"Lie down,  _ion."_

A voice spoke gently, making Thranduil to raise his head and take in the person who had spoken it with utter disbelief.

" _Adar._ " He rasped out, unmindful of how he was leaned back against a pillow.

It was his father! His father was here? When had he arrived?

As if he heard Thranduil's unspoken questionnaire, Oropher smiled gently and began stroking his son's cheek with the back of his hand.

"I arrived a few hours ago." He informed, holding back the other who attempted again to sit up. "I was talking to King Thrór when they informed us you had fainted."

At the mention of the dwarf king, Thranduil's eyes were on alert as he stiffened immediately.

"Thrór?" He was tense the moment after while recollecting the events leading up to his fainting and as he did, the uneasiness and cold void he felt within himself again came back. "What had he to say?"

Oropher frowned lightly and it all but increased the anxiety in Thranduil. He stared at his father with eyes brightening with worry and moved his lips wordlessly, unsure of how to voice the fret he began experiencing.

His fears doubled when Oropher sighed and closed his eyes.

"Everything,  _ion nín_ ," said the elven king, tightening his hold on Thranduil's hand as the other became extremely pallid.

"Everything?"

"Yes, everything. Though, I was not surprised to learn about your relationship. I had seen it coming, I suppose." Oropher smiled weakly, stroking his son's cheek as the other seemingly became more distressed. "And that only further resolves me to let you know my intentions of coming here. And take you back with me."

A gasp escaped Thranduil's mouth as all he felt was coldness.

"Back? Why?" He asked weakly, his voice breathless from the dread he tried pushing at the back of his mind.

Oropher seemed miserable at his son's condition. He sighed out yet again before setting his face with a sympathetic resolution.

"You can't bear his children." The King said, and surely he noticed Thranduil turning his face away, which caused him to hold his hand yet again. "We need heirs,  _ion nín_. And since you were unable to do so with  _him_ , we must find a way to secure  _our_  throne."

If only Oropher could see how much his words were hurting his son! Each word he spoke pierced Thranduil's heart, causing him so much anguish.

"I'm sorry if I sound cruel. I can only imagine how much it must be on you...but my son, we have better healers. We have better consult. If things go our way, one day you shall be able to carry...and in any case you are unable to..."

Oropher trailed off and Thranduil closed his eyes tightly, preventing the tears from slipping down his cheeks.

He heard his father inhaling loudly as he went on. This time his tone was softer, mellower.

"And if you are unable to, we must bring you a wife."

It was Thranduil's turn to inhale. At the sharp sound, he felt his father squeezing his hand lightly, hoping to provide some form of comfort to his already suffering son.

A comfort of some  _form_  only...for the real one was already taken away when he was denied of his prayers.

"Though it is not why I came. And it is good that we are alone." He heard his father speak again and now, he was unable to stay facing away. It had really escaped his mind the purpose of the king's visit.

"Why?" Thranduil felt his eyes narrowing as confusion gripped him tight. "Why have you come,  _Adar_? What has happened?"

At that, Oropher's eyes dimmed a little, portraying specks of sadness which immediately worried Thranduil.

"What has happened?" He pressed on, gazing into his father's eyes, hoping to pick up some clue. However, it was unneeded as Oropher began speaking shortly after.

"This winter has been particularly harsh on us. Food is scarce and we are weak. We require new grains to cultivate and we need  _you_ to help administer."

Thranduil was shocked. He felt guilt. Had it been that bad? Of course how would he know? While he was here with Thorin, well fed and well rested, his people were struggling!

All of a sudden, it made sense! Why his father and his escorts took too much time to arrive! They were weakened!

"The rations?" He asked, sighing out when Oropher shook his head.

"Only Lembas. They feed but provide not enough nourishment. We plan to bring in new grains; we already have two patches of land selected for cultivation. They lie on opposite clearings. While I administer one, someone must oversee the other...and these crops being common in use by the dwarves, you possess suitable knowledge." He paused, looking over at the younger elf, "And I trust my son more than any of my advisors...especially in times of dire need. I need you back."

Thranduil stayed quiet for a while, taking his eyes off from his father and settling them on his hands while being deep in thought.

He was not rushed and he was not interrupted.

Going back meant he'd have to leave Thorin, his dreams of their future together...he'd be crushed. He  _was_ crushed and Thorin would be as well. However, if he could never gift Thorin a child, then he'd only be jeopardising his future...his throne... _their_ respective thrones.

On the other hand, he had duties towards his people. They both did. And Thranduil was needed more back in his home—especially when half his people were starving and weak from hunger.

He bit his lips and closed his eyes as a sharp pang made his heart throb. If he stayed with Thorin, he would hold him back. He'd never fulfil the dwarf's single wish and he just couldn't take Thorin's happiness away from him. He had no right to.

Crystal tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt his hand squeezed tightly but he was too much in pain to even bother with his father's gestures of support.

Thorin deserved a happy life, a  _child_. His father deserved a grandson, a surety for their dynasty. Their people needed him.

His tears thickened, dripping down his chin and shedding away the ache he felt deep within himself.

Thranduil had decided.

He'd let Thorin his fair share of happiness—even if it was without him. He'd entitle  _his_ people with theirs. If his duties lay elsewhere, then so be it.

As of that moment, he had released Thorin from their bond. As of that moment, a large part of Thranduil had disappeared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHA! A twist! And you know...Oropher is shown to be so strict but I believe that he was so because he really loved his son and his people. I mean, he had pride issues and all but there was a reason Thranduil went to fight by his side in BoFA (rather tahn just taking it as a duty) and if he was that much of a jerk, The Silvans wouldn't have accepted him as their king, now would they? Just a thought. :P Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Sow a Barren Land
> 
> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Tolkien and those involved in the Peter Jackson movies. I mean, I write FANFICS. :'(
> 
> Warning: This one is pretty dark. Darkness starts from here.
> 
> AN: If the last chapter was serious, then be ready for some ultra mega serious stuff!
> 
> Thanks to [Juliakaze](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliakaze/pseuds/Juliakaze) for suggesting elves being impacted by their emotions. I'm not directly making it the reason for his...ineffectiveness but it will come up as a consideration. You'll know what I mean. ^^;
> 
> A bundle of thanks to those who've commented/bookmarked/kudo'd. Thanks for the support. :)
> 
> Chapter 6

"No!" Thorin lunged forward, ignored the desperate grasps that tried keeping him in place and vehemently tried to move in the direction where he was, from that day on, forbidden to do so.

"No! Unhand me!" He screamed and jerked, and summoning all his strength, he moved his feet forward. Little steps were taken and the more he inched ahead, more force he met holding him back,  _keeping_ him back and away from his one and only love.

Another step, another more and just when it seemed he had gained enough momentum, his hopes and dreams were altogether shattered when a final pair of strong hands grabbed him around his chest and with all their power, kept him in place.

"No! No, no, no!" His eyes watered up and frantically he raised an arm in the direction of far east,  _praying_  that one more time the Mahal would grace him a little miracle. Once more would Thranduil turn back and return.

But Thranduil didn't and by then, Thorin was certain that this was it.

All those dreams woven together, all those promises made with the truest of intentions were nothing more than ghosts now. Ghosts of his past. Ghosts of what would come to pass. Ghosts of what he'd  _never_ have.

Slowly, he recoiled his fingers and lowered his arms as hopeless eyes stared into the horizon, where silhouettes of his dream, his wish gradually began fading away, leaving him to prepare for an encounter of stone cold reality.

But for now, he was numb. He was broken.

 _He was lost_.

* * *

Thranduil snapped back to his senses when he felt the eyes of his father taking him in with great concern. It seemed that Oropher had been speaking something for he stopped midway to gaze at his son.

Bringing focus to his face, Thranduil turned and couldn't help but curse at his inattentiveness inwardly when it seemed that he had not heard most of that which his father spoke.

"Your mind is elsewhere," noted Oropher, frowning slightly as he rode side by side the other.

"I assure you father, it is mere weariness." Thranduil said, smiling slightly while keeping up with his illegible demeanour which wavered the moment after when Oropher's frown and the intensity of his gaze deepened.

"You have endured journeys far longer than twenty days,  _ion nín_." The king sounded concerned and his face showed it off too. "Are you certain you are not ill?"

His eyes seemed to be flickering with worry running deeper into his heart and if Thranduil didn't know any better, he had seen that exact expression before his mother had sailed to the west.

Quickly, he put on an assuring front and replied with as much confidence as he could, "I am not ill,  _Adar_."

When his words had barely any effect on the older elf, he looked at his father with bright eyes, pleading for him to believe as he said, "I grieve, and it is true."

At that, Oropher's eyes widened slightly in alarm before quickly settling back to their previous state as Thranduil went on, "However, much rests on me. I shall stay strong."

Experienced eyes now flashed a twinge of sympathy and Thranduil was certain that had it been in his hands, Oropher would do all in his power to try and lessen the pain Thranduil felt.

"I am sorry, my son. I wish things had been different," he replied gently, tearing his eyes away from the other and staring ahead. Even if his face was stoic and emotionless, Thranduil's eyes caught on to the inner torment that his father had been experiencing. Oropher's eyes danced with mellow as they tried best to not meet the other's gaze.

Thranduil understood no father wanted to dream his child in such a state much less see it. And since he could not be of much help here, Oropher must've been anguished to force Thranduil away from his happiness. It must've been agonizing for him to be so helpless.

Thranduil had seen the pain all those years ago when his mother succumbed to grief and left for Valinor. Thranduil was seeing it now.

And if he could lessen his father's pain somehow, he'd move mountains to achieve that.

But here, he too was just as helpless.

Dusk was at the edge of the sky. On that particular day, they had undertaken a long journey. His men were tired as was Oropher himself.

"Do not stop." He ordered, urging his escort to go along. "There is still light and we can cover a bit more path."

He intended to cross the remaining patch of wood where he knew of a good and safe clearing.

Looking around, he saw fatigue in the forms of his escort and sighed to himself before saying in an enthusiastic tone, "I know you are all tired. I know you require rest. But trust me. Rest will be sweeter there where we are headed."

His heart was filled with pride when he saw the cloud of exhaustion lifting up from their eyes as the other elves followed their king without any complaint. Satisfied, he now turned to his left where his son rode.

Thranduil had been riding without having to mutter a single syllable. Normally, he wasn't much of a talkative type but he wasn't as silent either and  _that_  brought fret to his heart.

"How do you fare, son?" He asked, lowering his tone and looking forward for just a moment.

A frown appeared on his forehead when Thranduil didn't respond. Quickly, Oropher turned his gaze at the other and what he saw deepened his frown and chilled his bones.

Thranduil's eyes...they bore no traces of their normal brightness. Instead, they were marred with a veil of discomfort and restrain that brought only foreboding implications to a father's heart.

"Thranduil?" He called out, his mind racing in worry when yet again, he went unacknowledged.

"Thranduil!"

His son's face was set in an illegible expression but the discomfort in his eyes grew only worse as beads of sweat gathered on his dark brows.

Thranduil's face began trembling. His breathing became short, rapid and laboured. Just as when Oropher was about to reach out, without any warning, Thranduil's face lost its hardness as it twisted in pure anguish while his eyes flashed unbearable pain which he could no longer suppress.

" _Thranduil_!" Oropher jumped off from his horse and was quickly at the other's side. He was barely able to support him when all of a sudden Thranduil let out an incoherent cry of pain and began toppling off from his ride.

Panic spread to every nook and cranny of Oropher's being as he rushed to hold his son before he fell and caused serious self injuries. His eyes widened in shock when the full weight of Thranduil crashed on to him without any effort coming from the other.

It was dead weight.

Thranduil had not fallen unconscious but was barely on its brink. His breathing was extremely heaving and his forehead was deeply creased, sweating in the terrible pain that had taken hold of him.

Transitioning gently on the ground, Oropher laid his son's head on his lap and looked at him with apprehension. By then, all the others had noticed that something wasn't right and they stopped immediately, wondering what had happened to their prince.

Something which Oropher had no idea.

Thranduil was crossing his hands over his torso and as Oropher tried pulling them apart, his fears all but increased when he felt just how tight Thranduil's arms were.

They were so restraining; no matter how much Oropher tugged at them, Thranduil only seemed to be crossing them tighter.

"What is the matter with you?" Whispered Oropher, fear and concern gripping him tightly as helplessness washed over him.

Was his son fading? Had he grieved too much that his  _fëa_  was unable to handle it?

Moans of torment and anguish filled the air; Thranduil was squirming extremely, writhing when finally screams made their way out of his mouth.

"For Eru's sake, bring him some water!" Oropher yelled out at a random elf who rushed to Thranduil's side with a canister.

Water was poured gently into Thranduil's mouth but none of it made its way inside as he squirmed and wreathed too much, screaming out in distress while he lunged upwards before falling hard on his father's lap.

Tears rolled down pale cheeks as his screams now turned into aching cries. He was in so much pain and it was of all times that Oropher  _wished_ he knew what ailed his son. He could only heal what he knew...

"What's wrong, my son?" He whispered while his heart throbbing with dread, worry and an upsurge of all other emotions as each cry entered his ears.

Thranduil refused to loosen his hands. With all his force, when Oropher  _did_ manage to uncross them, he frowned immediately when Thranduil's hands flung again on his stomach and clutched them tightly.

His eyes widened slowly as realization began crawling in Oropher's mind.

Could it be that Thranduil—

His thoughts were left incomplete as his eyes flew open with horror and utter shock at the feeling of something wet and warm on the hand that supported Thranduil's thighs.

He quickly brought it up and what he saw drained the entire colour away from his face.

_Blood!_

He felt the area in between his son's thighs and perceived a cold shudder running down his spine when his fears were confirmed.

Thranduil screamed out yet again and rolled over, thereby falling off from Oropher's lap, and it was then that Oropher finally noticed the splash of red all over the ground.

Thranduil's leggings were soaking wet as blood flew and seeped out the fabric. There was too much blood and they gushed out in an  _unstoppable_  manner.

Thranduil's face was now red; his throat parched and his clothes were drenched in sweat as the younger elf's cries and moans ripped throughout the forest.

Before he could comprehend anything further, Oropher's eyes caught a young elf guard soaking a piece of cloth and pressing it gently on his son's forehead.

It didn't lessen Thranduil's pain but whatever little could be done to lessen his discomfort was something Oropher gladly welcomed.

He nodded in gratitude to the guard who wiped away the ever accumulating sweat on the prince's face as Thranduil went on crying out in agony while clutching his stomach hard.

A shuddered breath escaped Oropher's lungs as his mind and body was numbed by the realization which washed over him. His heart seemed to be stabbed again and again as he understood that _he_  might've had a hand in it as well.

Elves were after all sensitive beings. Any unbalance of their emotional states made them frail. And Thranduil's emotions were more than simply unbalanced. They were in  _shambles_.

And Oropher might've been at fault as well! Whatever was happening to Thranduil, he was responsible for it as well!

He felt cold and horrified as his mind was rampaged with an onslaught of questions. Those, which he forbade himself to even think about.

How could he let him know? How could he tell his son what had happened? How could he tell him  _why_ it had happened?

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

_Oh Valar! What have I done?_

His heart was throbbing with guilt and all of a sudden, he found himself wanting to scream out in frustration at the sheer and cruel irony of it all.

Thranduil had  _finally_  been with child.

And now, he was losing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was what I meant. I'd love to hear from you guys on what you think, what could be better, what is not needed...please review. :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Okay so let's face it: I write fanfics. If I had any right, I'd totally absolutely positively make Thranduil be the birthing parent of Legolas and it'd do away with so many questions about his mom. OR I would make Kíli and Fíli Thorin and Thrandy's little beebee boy and they'd live as would Thorin and they'd all live happily ever after! OR I'd show Galion's face a bit clearer in the movies. OR I'd make Thorinduil and either Kíliel or Kílilas (yes, KÍLILAS) totally cannon, hot and happenin'!
> 
> But...I only write fanfics. So...
> 
> AN: So in this chapter, I tried to give a "medical" reason for Thranduil's infertility. "Medical" because if you show this to any doctor in the real world, I'll definitely get a bitch slap.
> 
> Thanks to [ Juliakaze](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliakaze/pseuds/Juliakaze) for her enormous patience and awesome explanation of certain details in a normal human which causes infertility. She's right. It's amazing we're born how we are born!
> 
> To everyone who've supported this fic- thank you!

Muffled sounds could be heard around him, their very essence bearing carefulness and secrecy as if it wasn't intended for Thranduil himself.

His brows twitched lightly as consciousness made its way little by little. Gradually, the muffled voices became clearer and even though they were hushed, it was fairly easy for Thranduil to identify one of them as that belonging to his own father.

He caressed at the spot beside his face and curled his fingers around. A frown made its way to his temples thereafter as Thranduil began to clench what it seemed like a soft delicate thing.

It wasn't the feel of grass. Nor was it anything closer to the feel of his home back in Greenwood.

So then where was he?

The voices stung his ears now. Oropher sounded mad. He was heard hissing roughly at someone who kept his or her tone down and explained something to him in a controlled yet quiet tone, calming the king down to some extent.

Slowly, Thranduil began cracking open his eyes and resisted his urge to wince. Within mere seconds, all his eyes took in was bleared shapes that slowly morphed into coherent images, which in turn settled to picture perfect clarity.

Gently, his surrounding was unfolded and as he took it in, Thranduil couldn't help but feel his mind being muddled with a lot of questions.

Around him were angling walls of cloth. The space was big but not as much as a room. He guided his eyes to his direct line of sight where he could see a patch of green shining vibrantly among the daylight. Immediately, he felt his frown deepen at the sheer oddity of everything and narrowed his eyes before shifting them slightly, letting them land on the drawn back flap of a tent.

_But a tent?_

He didn't recollect setting up camp! No...in fact, the last thing he  _did_ remember was riding on his elk and hearing his father ordering the others to head for...a little while longer. Yes, that was what he remembered.

_But what about the rest?_

His eyes were narrowed further as confusion marred his delicate face. He closed them for a short while before opening them up again and resting them on the small sight of the forest he had before him.

His mind raced to tie the strings of recollection he had but it wasn't enough! Thranduil in his heart  _knew_ that there was a large and important portion he was missing and he  _urged_ his mind to remember and  _remember hard._

The voices were still around him and were engaged with themselves so much that they hadn't yet noticed Thranduil.

Truthfully, the young prince was relieved not to have attention on him. It of course didn't make him think clearly but by not fussing over him, Thranduil was at least not distracted from trying to work out his confusion either.

Suddenly, azure eyes widened as his mind seemingly made a sharp leap from the state of utter confusion to deadly remembrance.

It all came back to him! The sharp shooting of pain tearing his body apart; the feeling of losing his balance, the horrifying screams rippling their way out of his throat and the  _pain._

The pain...it was so excruciating which Thranduil never felt before. Never in his life. It was just like being stabbed with a white hot knife but only it was worse! His stomach—

Thranduil jolted to sit upright, pressing them over where it had hurt before as frantic hands roamed all over the flat plane of his torso.

The voices around him stopped about him and in a flash of a moment, he felt strong arms taking hold of his shoulders, jerking them slightly before pulling him into a hug.

Thranduil did not embrace back. His mind was too busy connecting the necessary dots.

Bit by bit, as new connections were forged, a terrible sense of fear began gripping his heart. His chest started aching with a sudden pressurizing feeling and no matter how much he tried suppressing it, even by  _clutching_  his hand over the area, Thranduil felt as if there was an overwhelming sensation building up inside him.

If he couldn't let it out, he'd surely die.

The pair of arms were now wrapping tightly against him as he was pulled back a little from the hug. He vaguely registered the call of his name. Even the gentle tap on his cheeks were ignored.

All that kept racing in his mind was one thought and one thought alone.

_No._

His heart was thumping erratically; a cold chill ran up and down his spine and his breaths were swollen so much that Thranduil found it extremely difficult for his lungs to hold air.

_No!_

Another voice was calling out to him. A gentler voice, a calm voice while the other sounded much panicked as Thranduil was shaken lightly by his cheeks.

His hands were trembling now. The more Thranduil realized, more were they overtaken by frightful tremors.

His chest was growing extremely heavy and his breaths were rapid and pained. Dread irked his heart and the more his mind nudged towards what seemed to be the only explanation of all the events, more he tried his best keeping the conclusion to the darkest corners of his beings where he dared not face them.

However, he soon grew weary and just as he gave up the last bit of control, all the revelations, the realizations came in a rush, flooding his heart and mind with the stone cold truth with inhumane brutality.

_No please Eru Iluvatar! Let it not be so!_

His torso was hurting from him clutching them too painfully. The trembles in his hands increased; the pressure in his chest was now too much to bear and the cold chill which had surrounded him pierced him like needles.

_No no no!_

He kept his face blank and empty—emotion incapable from seeping into the pallid feature—much like the void he felt in his heart. Even if he was called, he hadn't the state to notice. Even if he was whispered soothing words, he hadn't the energy to register.

Then, without any warning, his face cracked. His lungs felt like being crushed and something heavy felt like sitting on his chest. Before long, a guttural scream echoed throughout the tent and it took Thranduil long after to realize it was he who had been letting out that scream.

It was then that Thranduil realized what that overwhelming feeling was.

It was the feeling of loss.

"I'm at a loss for words." Oropher said, handing a drought to his son who simply turned his face away.

It had taken long but finally Thranduil was calm, although his composure had nothing to do with serenity. It was an eerie calmness that engulfed him much like the emptiness he felt in his womb.

He bit his lips and closed his eyes for a moment before settling them on his lap.

Apparently, the dwarf healer was wrong. There was no such elf-dwarf incompatibility. He was carrying a child. He  _could_ carry a child.  _Thorin's_  child. But he couldn't maintain it.

His heart wrenched with agony as shards of his thoughts pierced his tender spot.

He couldn't maintain it...

" _Ion nín,_  you must drink this. _"_ He felt the strong smelling drought hovering near his nose. With extreme lethargy, Thranduil reached out for it and drank it before just as blankly he returned it to someone who took it without any words.

Oropher's sigh could be heard and all it did was make Thranduil frown in slight irritability. He hadn't asked anyone to be with him. He hadn't asked for some drought. He didn't want it!

"You had better listen what the healer has to say." The king spoke and when Thranduil gave no response, his face was turned towards his father as the elven king gripped his chin.

Oropher gazed sharply into the other's eyes and at that, Thranduil couldn't help but feel his chest tighten as attentiveness was forced upon him. His father always had been intimidating and no matter how hard one tried, he could never outrun Oropher's demand for attention when he warranted it.

Now was no exception either. His own eyes widened slightly at the authority the king possessed before morphing to an exhaust laden focus as he looked over at the healer.

Finally gaining her prince's attention, the healer bowed and started off with her apologies, making Thranduil's innards churn with a latent anger.

 _She_  was sorry for his loss? How could she feel sorry when her words were laced with so much practiced ease and  _charitable_ sympathy?

He frowned slightly, letting hold of his irritation so that they didn't show much on his face. All the time, he  _himself_  tried his best not to lash out as the she-elf went on.

However, his anger and annoyance soon disappeared when the healer began making her point.

"As you know, Your Highness, that all male elves can carry. And as it is the case for all, their wombs remain dormant and remain hidden unless they receive." She paused, sweeping her eyes over the addressed. When Thranduil's attention didn't seem undivided, she continued in the same calm voice, "It is not that their wombs will be active after their first time. It may take many times before they can actually conceive. Once they have given birth, whatever transitions they have gone through become undone. Meaning, the womb returns to being dormant again and is such that it never existed."

"I understand." Thranduil replied quietly, when another meaningful pause was given by the healer for his feedback.

Satisfied, the healer nodded and explained, "Now I have used the word 'active'. It means, Even if the womb is invoked, it may or may not begin functioning yet. Although, in general, male elves do not have to wait long for them to be able to be active and conceive."

Thranduil's eyes flickered suddenly as he took in the sudden hesitant look on her face. He narrowed his eyes and inhaled, ignoring the uneasiness he felt in his heart as he prompted the other to continue, "What else?"

The expression she gave made his chest constrict even more as he was again overtaken by a chilling sense of trepidation.

"However," The healer sighed and took in a deep breath.

Thranduil's jaws slacked. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes began widening and as he looked up at the other, they shone with a brightness which only attributed to one who clasped to a remaining part of hope with all his strength, daring it to be taken away from him.

After all, that was exactly what  _he_ was doing. He was clutching at his last hope,  _pleading_ it not to flee away from his grasp.

She rested her eyes on her prince and quickly brought on a mask of professionalism, as she went on, "However in your case, as I have examined, your womb...it...cannot come out of its latency."

As soon as the hope had appeared in those azure orbs, it had slipped away from them just as swiftly when for the second time, harsh reality was served up to Thranduil.

"Even if it does, after a very long time, it is not matured enough to be agreeable for your child. And it is bec—"

"What are you trying to say?"

She was startled from being abruptly cut off by the younger elf who glared at her with his piercing orbs.

He couldn't bear listening to it any longer. Anger bubbled inside Thranduil was  _once more_  he was  _explained_ why he was so useless! To be told again and again of his futileness...it was wearing him down!

He glared sharply at the healer and upon seeing her so courteous and proper, he  _fumed._

What is it that you are trying to say?" His mouth was set in a snarl and words came out in a tone that was laced with every bit of bitterness he had been feeling. "That I will never be able to bear a child? That each time I do by the Valar's miracle, I'll only end up losing it? Is that what you mean to say?"

"Calm down, Thranduil." His father spoke, tugging his hand to restrain him from speaking—an action which made him all the more furious.

His eyes flashing in rage, he promptly ignored his father and felt all his self-constraint and self-loathe rushing their way out and at someone who had done nothing to deserve any sort of reprimand.

But he was helpless. He couldn't contain his anger anymore.

" _Of course_  that is what you mean! But you know not how to say it to  _me,"_  Thranduil hissed, clenching his fists tightly, "I'm  _unfit_  to have any children. I'm  _unwell_. You can't give me any guarantee that I'll  _ever_  be successful in having a babe. What? What is that?  _Another_  drought?"

He glowered dangerously at the small cup which the healer was filling up.

"You think another silly drought will help  _cure_ me?" Thranduil was enraged and his eyes were blazing with fury at the healer's apparent insolence.

When she lowered her eyes at his correct deduction, Thranduil hardened his eyes in a glare as his insides were being turmoiled by an unforgiving rage.

"That is all." Oropher said, his voice growing hard. "This is no way to behave and you know it!"

"My apologies father," Thranduil smirked bitterly before his mouth contorted to an acidic sneer, "She gives me a  _drought_ and she  _hopes_ to cure me."

Oropher's own vision sharpened but Thranduil's eyes didn't linger long enough on his father. He turned his attention back on the other and scowled venomously, "You  _can't_ cure  _me._  Not with some idiotic  _potion._  You know very well it does nothing! You wouldn't be avoiding my gaze otherwise!"

He suddenly rose up and snatched the cup from her hands and without any alarm, threw it on the ground, startling everybody when the clay container smashed in pieces, spilling the liquid all over.

" _That_ ," He pointed at the mess, holding her fearful gaze in his incensed one, "can't cure me.  _Nothing_ can cure me. I will _not_  be feigned by false hope!"

" _Thranduil you cross your limit_!"

All of a sudden, Oropher's voice boomed throughout the tent.

Thranduil snapped out of his fit and turned sharply at his father. For a while he said nothing.

Eyes big with shock, his orbs trembled as he took in his father's strong face and barely suppressed a shudder as he felt a cold wash of hopelessness sweeping all over him.

For a long while, Thranduil simply stared at the king, shock and bewilderment draining the entire colour away from his face. His eyes flickered and his mouth trembled slightly as he tried to speak all those unspoken words echoing torturously in his heart and mind. He opened his mouth but all that came out was air. His eyes reflected all the pain, the anguish, the confusion and shattered hope...yet, not a single word escaped his mouth.

Finally, his eyes graced composure. Ignoring the mellowness set in his own father's expression, he tore his gaze away from the other and faced the healer.

"It is best that I not be allured by a false hope." He spoke with an eerie calmness which would incur a cringe from the other two beings in that tent.

Thranduil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The way he spoke befell his strong demeanour, only proving what he uttered next. "I'm tired of hearing what I am. From you, the dwarf healer."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Oropher frowning lightly but he was weary and he simply wanted to be left alone.

"I'm infertile and that is what I can't change." He drew out a sigh, before facing his father with a cold sharpness in his orbs. "What I can change is the condition of our people. I shall start as soon as we reach Greenwood."

Oropher's stiff expression did not go unnoticed. Before anyone could say anything further, Thranduil bowed and headed out of the tent to find a quiet spot where he could be with himself. As he was making his way towards the exit, a hand was placed on his belly while the corners of his eyes began stinging.

Now that he was confirmed what he was, he had no option but to try and accept it.

And it was  _revolting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking, did Oropher not know about Thranduil's previous examination? Or that he did and he hated dwarves prodding his son. Hmmmm... ;)
> 
> It'll come up shortly. But till then, if you have any questions regarding the "medical" explanation, ask me! I'll try my best to clarify. Please review. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I only own the plot and the OFC. Nothing else.
> 
> AN: Esja is the name of the OFC. This name may possibly be related to Old Norse esja which isa kind of clay.
> 
> To everyone who've commented/kudo'd/bookmarked- I can't thank you enough. :)

Thorin's eyes reflected confusion and unpreparedness as he stood stiffly at the great hall, where before him stood probably the kingdom's finest of dwarf maidens. Each of them was lavishly dressed and upon whom his gaze fell, Thorin took all his might not to roll his eyes as that lady blushed and looked away shyly.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked when his curiosity became overbearing.

His grandfather, the probable grand architect of this whole scheme, smiled at the ones gathered and pointed out to one particular dainty maiden who had an air of personality about her.

"That my dear lad," he said in a hushed tone receiving a stare of growing annoyance from the other, "is Lady Esja of Moria. Born into one of the most esteemed families, she has been well trained and educated in all the finer points of etiquette." Thrór glanced once at his grandson and seeing the disapproving look still crossing his face, he decided to continue nevertheless, "And her way of thinking is quite radical. I'm sure she will become a fine wife for you, laddie."

All the while Thrór went on singing the dame's praise, Thorin resisted his urge to roll his eyes and give off any expressions that truly portrayed how annoyed he was at all of this. However, upon hearing the last part of his grandfather's speech, the protesting expression on his face returned as his eyes grew wide and narrowed a moment later with utter disapproval.

" _What_?" His voice was kept low, although the hiss that made its way out needed no amount of volume to convey the discontent. " _Wife_? My wife?"

Thrór look nonplussed as if he had been anticipating such response. He gave a simple nod. Thorin's eyes flashed with disbelief and shock as a sudden flare of anger overwhelmed his heart.

"And why would you think I'd want to marry?" His jaws clenched with the sudden twist he felt in his chest. His wounds would never heal but they hadn't faded yet and it took him all of his will power to keep a straight face while painful memories of his unfulfilled dreams began flooding his mind.

He took deep breaths and again focused on the king, as he spoke in a firm tone, "Why would you have me married so soon? You know I can't. You know to whom my heart belongs."

"And I also know that it has been six months since he released you from your bond." Thrór reprimanded, reeling Thorin's rage back. "And you know I wouldn't resort to this option had he not  _lacked_."

"He lacked in  _one_  aspect!" Thorin pleaded exasperatedly.

He was about to say more when he saw the alarming look on the king's face. Straightening himself, he looked around. The chatter in the court suddenly died down and all eyes were upon the Prince or Erebor. Curiosity and concern exuberated from them and some even took the opportunity to murmur their thoughts about Thorin' 'sudden change' in demeanour.

It was then that he realized. He had raised his voice enough to draw attention and his rebelling stance didn't improve the situation any better.

Quickly, he gathered himself and swept a reassuring glance on the court. It took the guests a little time to get over the awkwardness but gradually, they were again lulled into their merriment and continued their conversation.

When the others were preoccupied once more, Thorin faced Thrór and resumed in a careful tone, "He lacked in one aspect. That could've been overlooked! There were other choices."

Thrór frowned. He was not used to be questioned about his decision and neither was he appreciative of it.

His eyes locked in a critical gaze, he replied slowly, "It is the most important aspect. It ensures our line and something like that  _cannot_ be overlooked."

He caught on the protesting vibe off from the other and hardened his gaze which prohibited Thorin from speaking.

"As for other options, do you realize the uproar it would cause when people found out their prince and his companion  _adopting_  a babe? It's no charity to them! They'd see it as  _incapability._ They'd probably see it as  _you're_ incapability and I can't allow that. I shall  _not_ allow my bloodline to be smeared with such an accusation."

Thorin's eyes were filled with horror as shock churned his insides. While Thrór spoke, he felt so cold and so lost as his mind grasped the threads of comprehension.

It wasn't his grandfather speaking. It was now the King of Erebor.

All of a sudden his mouth felt dry as his voice died down in his throat. He shook his head, refusing to believe what his mind asked him to.

"You chose your people over me?" Finally, he choked out as pain and disbelief squeezed his heart.

At that, Thrór's eyes flickered momentarily towards his lap before they were set back on Thorin's face— this time with more sternness— stabbing Thorin's heart even further.

"You'll wed her." The king replied with a cold absolution, "And you shall have an heir. No matter where your heart belongs."

The sense of finality echoed clearly off Thrór's words, jabbing Thorin with its cold touch, taking away the shards of sensibility he still held in him.

Out of the corner of his hazed vision, he saw Thrór rising from his throne and guiding his limp form towards Lady Esja.

On his way, Thrór whispered into the ears of his grandson which left no room for further argument, "You'll thank me."

Thorin had none within him either.

The dwarf woman bowed courteously and shyly smiled at her prince, whose heart cried bitterly while images of another bright smile floated in his mind. The smile that captured Thorin's heart; the smile that belonged to his 'One': the one he'd now never have.

And at that moment, Thorin learned how to be insincere. Regardless of his actual feelings, he blocked them away in his heart.

He smiled at the lady and took her offered hand.

He did not care for the betrayal he had committed against Lady Esja. Nor did he care for the betrayal he'd now be committing against himself.

* * *

A gentle hand touched the soil, burying itself within before pulling out a fistful. Blue eyes scanned the sample held in his hand and a deep frown soon crossed the smooth forehead of its owner.

The soil was dry to the touch. It was granular and sand-like, which indicated how little it could retain water. A necessity when it came to the thriving of  _any_ crop.

The hand was tilted gently and aloof eyes followed the movement of the grains as the hit the ground with a harsh and arid sound.

"Prepare stocking for the winter." Thranduil spoke, using his fingers to flicker away the last of grains. The disappointed look crossing on the face of attending elf went unmissed and is heart went out to all those who had been toiling over that fruitless patch of land for the past six months.

However, the quality of soil was beyond sustenance of that particular crop. Unless, there had been supply of some others, Thranduil feared another rough season.

"Would you like to try the other sample of crops, Your Highness?" The attending elf had a little touch of hope in his voice as he looked expectantly up to his prince.

Letting out a huge sigh, Thranduil shook his head.

"They require plenty of water as well." He replied quietly, not daring to look at the other. He couldn't bear to see further hopelessness. "Prepare the stocks."

The other elf bowed slightly and with lethargy went towards the other workers to inform of the new plan. The others too had their hopes diminished. As they too wearily began leaving the clearing, Thranduil couldn't help but feel a sharp pang in his chest.

He had failed here as well.

A hesitant palm ghosted about his stomach before being placed on it as Thranduil stood there with utmost stillness. Thoughts raked in his mind and bounced off its walls with increasing accusation against Thranduil himself. Where one managed to pinch his heart with its cruel bearings, its echo openly cussed at him and his uselessness.

He couldn't be a provider. He was not fit to be a lover and was not fit to be a prince.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. The grasp of his torso became firmer and surer as a sense of resolve washed over Thranduil's entire frame.

He was not an entire failure. Yes, he couldn't fulfil his role towards Thorin. He was dwindling in the task handed on to him.

His jaws tightened with his growing sense of pride and willpower. The dimness covering his eyes was soon lifted, as a slow fire began to smoulder inside of them.

But he  _would_  fulfil his role as a bearer.

His eyes followed the elf who had been speaking with him previously and as they did, the smouldering flame held within them now flared up with a new found vigour.

He refused to believe in his complete futility. He _refused_ to believe in his infertility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think it's getting too complicated? I'm gonna relate them with a mega super strong thread but in the mean time, if you have any questions, feel free to ask! Please review! ^_^


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Sow a Barren Land
> 
> Disclaimer: I only own the OMC. Nothing else.
> 
> Warning: Smut. And shifting P.O.V's.
> 
> AN: Here is where the severely tweaked timeline kicks in. Since this fic takes place before the fall of Doriath, Thingol is still alive. There is also a portion later where it might seem like appearing out of nowhere but it's actually a part of the plan. You'll understand as you read. ^^; If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
> 
> To those who've supported- thank you very much!

Oropher leaned back in his throne and drew in a long breath. One of his hands fell to the arm rest limply while the other busied itself massaging his temples where a throbbing pain was accumulating. Days had passed since he had a decent amount of sleep and he certainly lost count of the last time when he actually felt serenity.

His people were growing weak from inadequate nutrition. Even if they wanted meat on their plates, it was hard to come by for the last harsh winter had affected the animal life too. Most seemed to have migrated to another part of the forest and the few who still dwelled were skin and bones themselves.

The elves were kind towards all life forms and though it went against their instincts to kill the poor creatures seeking shelter, they'd still do so for the sake of their own survival had there been some meat on said animals.

An inaudible groan was let out as the king lunged further into his throne. Exhaustion was breaking every fibre of his being and his mind was burdened with concern which weighed down upon him, adding to his weariness.

He frowned gently as a sudden thought crossed his head.

Doriath was still thriving, wasn't it?

He sat up immediately, clasping his chin with his hand as the trail of thought began condensing.

Yes, although he had left to establish his own realm, he had done so with Elu Thingol's blessing. Surely the Sinda king would not turn his gentle gaze away when Greenwood needed him the most? Surely Doriath could spare some of its grains for just this winter? Just enough to fix the patch?

However, that way of thinking didn't linger long in his mind. It dispersed away swiftly as the frown between his brows deepened, leaving creases on his smooth forehead.

No, what was he thinking? He couldn't go to Thingol for help!

His eyes flashed as the wicker of his pride increased in luminosity.

It was he who insisted to be allowed to set his own destiny. It was he who explained his intention of having his own realm with burning enthusiasm. To go back to his roots— to find his own calling—that was what he had told the great king and because of his confidence and willpower, Elu Thingol had graced Oropher his well wishes. If he went back now, the king would think him to be an utter failure. A worthless king who couldn't provide for his people!

He couldn't have that. His ego forbade him!

His frown deepened even further while his face tightened much like his chest, filled with the overbearing sense of self respect which caused him to leave Doriath the first place.

Then there was the matter for his son...

Thranduil had immersed himself in the duties of princehood. However, Oropher could see the loitering desperation in his son's eyes.

Thranduil regularly took the drought which was administered to him. At first, he resented it but gradually, he came to an understanding and toojk it without fail—only to soothe Oropher.

Only for Oropher. As if he knew that it was already an attempt gone in vain.

Even though Thranduil appeared stoic and calm, a huge chunk of him was missing. Oropher knew where to look. Oropher knew what must be done to relieve a part of it. However, for the sake of his people, he would have to deny Thranduil that piece of joy. He had no choice but to deny that...dwarf.

A dark cloud descended upon his forest green orbs as his mind retraced its steps to hat fateful day in the tent.

Thranduil had looked so lost. He had seen pride in the other's eyes; arrogance in his face, persona in his demeanour...but never before had he seen his son so  _broken._

Then those fateful words began ringing in his ears. Each one sharper than the other and each pierced his heart in terrible ways than its predecessor.

" _It is best that I not be allured by a false hope."_

A rough sigh struggled its way out of the king's mouth as he again fell back against his throne. He closed his eyes feeling the beginning of another headache and braced himself for the pain he'd feel as the rest of Thranduil's words floated in his mind.

" _I'm tired of hearing what I am."_

He feared for his son. He feared the desperation that would force him into something Thranduil would later regret.

" _From you, the dwarf healer."_

All of a sudden, Oropher sharply sat up. At that moment, his headache was subsidiary and the exhaustion he felt was quickly swept away by an onslaught of rage which fired up the insides of his chest.

The dwarf healer.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. The great hall echoed with a reverberation as a heavy hand was loudly slammed against the armrest of his throne, clenching it immediately as anger flared out from Oropher's green orbs.

That dwarf healer...he had the galls of saying Thranduil was infertile? He had the nerves to lay his hand on Thranduil's body and say  _his_ son was incapable of bearing an heir?

His knuckles became white hot; his hand started shaking as mild creaking sound of wood threatened to add to the already humid air.

The dwarves blamed it on his son? How dare they?

Thrór spoke of how both had been trying and how immediate the need for an heir was for them. He had said nothing else but the manner of speaking clearly indicated him pointing fingers at Thranduil for the lack of any children. They were quick to blame Thranduil. They were quick to blame  _his_ son!

It could be the fault of that dwarf prince also! The healer didn't mention  _that_? Were they so prideful of their own potency? Did they really believe they'd be successful by rejecting Thranduil?

His face hardening, it trembled as the grip on the armrest poured in all of his preternatural strength. A silent fury tore through his entire frame as his whole body began shaking with a viciousness which promised nothing but pain for those who lay a finger own him and his bloodline.

He knew that race to be cunning; he knew that race to be greedy. He was not so quick to trust them but kept up a cordial relation nonetheless, solely due to Thingol and his policy.

But  _these_  inbred idiots were far from greedy. They were malicious. They were  _liars._

He had tolerated them so far. But no more. No more.

* * *

It had been a tiresome day rushing back and forth the pantry. With the winter looming over their shoulders, they had but a short span of window to harvest. All the more reason for the frenzy seen among every Greenwood elf.

And Rainion was not free from its effect. If anything, he perhaps rushed more than any other. Who wouldn't when one saw the vacant look in his prince's eyes up so close and personal?

Upon reaching the vicinity of his quarters, Rainion sat down on his bed. He stretched his back and limbs while letting out a hearty groan as he shrugged off the day's weariness.

He was just about to close his eyes when suddenly, his elf ears picked up a faint rustling sound.

It wasn't the rustling of leaves or anything of that sort. It sounded... _heavy_  and  _deliberate._

Alertness gripped his being as he sat up straight, eyes darting to every corner of his room. He wasn't a warrior and also had no weapon about him. The halls were silent too. Deep into this night, no one had the energy to still be up.

His heart began thumping with anxiety and his mouth tightened to a fine line as he breathed rhythmically, praying to be calmed down.

A gasp involuntarily escaped his mouth when his ears picked up another rustling sound. This time, it was followed by a light chiming of something that vaguely sounded like metal. No, stones.

His body became rigid as tenseness flowed over him. His heart was beating rapidly and fear was rushing towards him with an uncanny speed. It was then that he wished he had at last lit up a candle.

Slowly and surely, he started backing away from his bed and towards his door. He always kept his walking stick close by it and if he could get his hands on it, he could at least have some form of protection.

Step by step, he backed and with each careful placing of his foot, the thumping in his heart grew heavier and more painful as the anxiety in him began doubling gradually.

A bit more...just another step...

He spun around with steepness when the tinkling sound came from behind him. Within a flash, he lunged towards the door. Hastily grabbing his stick, he swung it blindly at the invisible threat, his mind screaming in fear and desperation as an inane sense of survival gripped him tight.

However, the rush of adrenaline he felt drained imperviously away from his body as a cold sensation washed over him immediately after.

His hands began trembling. The grip on his walking stick loosened as he came face to face with the threat, whose features Rainion could distinguish without any difficulty  _even_  in the dimness of the hall lights.

His eyes widened and his jaws were parted in such a manner that they threatened to hit the floor. His mind was overwhelmed with a glut of emotions and none of them were friendly in nature.

"Am I so threatening?"

When the other's silky voice broke the tense ambience, Rainion's restraint was broken as well. The fullness of shock slammed against his body and mind. His stick dropped from his hand, clattering loudly against the floor.

Rainion was dumbfounded. For the life of him, he could not begin to comprehend why he was standing before his prince in the darkness of his room. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why the prince had such playfulness in his tone.

"No, no Your Highness. I- I" he stammered when the basics of courtesy slapped him hard in his head as he rushed to greet his prince.

His eyes grew all the more bigger when he was interrupted from his bow and was straightened by a pair of gentle hands which took their time sliding down his own arms.

"My prince, is there—"

"Hush." He gasped out loud when Thranduil rested a slender finger on his lips and graced him a smile.

By the Valar, Rainion could swear—if there ever was a more tantalizing taste of enchantment and sin, he had just tasted it with his eyes, drinking in the lush smile that exuded from those pair of delicate lips.

Caught in a trance, he felt his body move backwards just as Thranduil eased his way inside of his room. Moonlight streamed through the windows into the small quarters, shinning on the Sinda's frame with selective touches that enhanced his beautiful features.

Thranduil's hair was splayed on his back and shoulders in a perfect smoothness, shining in an otherworldly gleam.

The Sinda parted his lips slightly and tilted his head. As he scanned the dilemma on Rainion's face, a strange sense of mirth and amusement gleamed in his starry eyes. And as the moonlight caressed his smooth cheeks and rosy lips, Rainion would find himself trying his best not to keep his eyes long on the other's delicate face, swiftly losing his fight as his heart burned with a sense of awe and lush.

"Do you require my help, Your Highness?" Finally, he gathered enough strength to enquire.

Much to his surprise, Thranduil laughed. It was the sound of sweet chimes dangling in a soft breeze and Rainion soon felt his resolve leaving his being as he was elated with a sense of want and guilt warring within his heart.

"Am I only welcomed here when I only require something?" Thranduil replied, his tone laced with playfulness and eyes shining with an alluring emotion which sucked Rainion without any traces of effort.

Closing the door behind him, the Sinda slowly proceeded to remove his cloak and it was then that Rainion realised which sound he had heard.

It was the sound of this precise fabric and as it dropped to the ground, the exact tinkling sound entered his ears as the ornate beads adorning the expensive robes jingled lightly because of the motion.

"Y-your Highness—" Rainion's breath hitched in his throat, his chest now began thumping once again but this time there was something else mingled with the terror he felt in him...something else that was so forbidden and yet so intoxicating.

Thranduil's eyes bore into his own. As the other elf regarded him, his face displayed a distant look as the prince's eyes seemed to be floating in some far away dream, quickly being filled with lust and want as he allowed a slender hand to caress the side of his neck and collar bone, parting his tunic in the process.

"I may have needs." Thranduil whispered seductively into the others ears, eliciting a shudder as went on, placing his other hand on the elf's chest. "As do you."

For a while, it lingered there, right there— on his heart— which beat with a rapid pace at the very touch. Then very slowly, Thranduil let his hands run up and down against the other's chest, bringing it slowly around his back and nape as he pulled the other closer to his face.

Rainion closed his eyes, hoping desperately to drown the stirrings he felt in his heart but his will was shattered as his eyes darted to the smooth skin peeking out underneath the notoriously thin tunic.

His mouth felt dry and the tug in his chest was becoming unbearable. He tried stepping away from this ethereal creature but all of a sudden, his legs refused to move despite the frantic screams in his mind.

A pressure began accumulating between his thighs and the fire in his heart radiated all throughout his body.

"You do have needs, don't you?" Thranduil's eyes were half-lidden; pure lust spilling from the orbs of bright blue as his voice lowered to a rasp revealing all of its passion and fervour.

"My Prince—I..."

"No titles, my love." Thranduil spoke in whispers and the distant look he had in his eyes drilling into the other's own completely captured Rainion's attention.

Even if he felt confused at Thranduil's declaration, his mind was too clouded to dwell n that point for much longer.

Thranduil's lips were ghosting very near to his own mouth. It brushed past him and seemed like wanting to be claimed before the Sinda moved fractionally, brushing against the other's lips yet again.

Rainion could taste the scent of sweet honey and apples as each of Thranduil's breath hit his lips. The more he tasted, the more his heart wanted to have a feel of those soft supple lips, so inviting and yet so teasing.

The little noises of protest soon began dying down in his mind while his heart guided his hand and placed it on those smooth cheeks caressing them gently. A finger traced the other's delicate jaw line and as it dragged against the nectarine lower lips of the Sinda, Rainion felt his heart skip a beat when a subtle shudder ran down Thranduil's frame.

A slow pressure began growing in between Rainion's thighs. With each of Thranduil's caresses, a scorching passion was left where the elegant fingers drifted, rippling his entire being with an insurmountable amount of want and lust.

Now he could hear no muffled sounds of protests. His heart was fluttering and beating with a yearn which was so enticing in its own way.

Very slowly, Rainion laced his fingers on the strings of the other's tunic, feeling more aroused as they brushed against the smooth skin of his prince. He felt Thranduil heaving slightly, inching closer to him and parting his legs a little.

At the welcoming invitation, Rainion moved closer as well. His body felt a jolt of electricity running down his spine when his member touched a growing bulge between Thranduil's legs.

As a response, Thranduil let out a shrill gasp as he parted his legs even more. His back and neck arched as he bucked his hips towards the other, touching themselves yet again and shuddering when another quiver caressed their frames.

Rainion's arms ghosted all over Thranduil's body. His hands busied themselves tangling in the other's hair, drawing him closer to his own mouth. Thranduil moaned gently, wrapping his arms around the other's neck before pressing his member against the other.

Breath caught in his throat, Rainion smashed their lips together. He lapped his tongue against the other's lower lips and folded his lips over Thranduil's own, sucking and nibbling gently, prompting the other to invite him in.

Thranduil parted his lips slightly and waiting for no further hints, Rainion tilted his head and slid in his tongue, hungrily exploring every nook and cranny of the sweet crevasse.

Tongues clashed; lips met hungrily; moans and gasps filled the room leaving behind wakes of wanton.

They both tilted their heads and let their hands wander to every parts of their hair, back and face as the fire of desire burned brightly in both their hearts.

Rainion tasted the nectar which was pure Thranduil. His tongue caressed and prodded the other's walls of his mouth; it teased Thranduil's lips and rolled over his tongue and when he was met with the weakest of dominances, Rainion surged ahead and deepened his kiss even further as he proceeded to search unknown depths of Thranduil's mouth.

Lungs burned. The film of air thinning in both of them, gasps became sharper. When it was evident that no more could they delay the need for air, they unwillingly broke the kiss and stared at each other for a while.

Thranduil's lips were swollen and his pearly eyes were shining with unhidden flames which reflected thoughts of pure impious nature and a lush that knew no limits.

The moonlight shone brilliantly against his features and it was then that Rainion came to terms with what he already knew. Thranduil was ethereal. And he wanted a taste of this beautiful being.

Clothes flew open.

In a blur, Thranduil was laid down on the bed as a pair of warm lips claimed his own, drifting the trail of kisses to his jaws and down along his neck, collarbones and sternum before settling on one of his taut areas of pink flesh.

Rainion paused there for a while but soon engulfed them one by one. Warmth filled Thranduil's body as he arched his back and spread his legs even further welcoming the other's flushed form all over him.

He caressed the other's back while he claimed Rainion's lips into a deep and passionate kiss before his hands fell to his sides and clenched a fistful of sheets as pleasure coursed through his veins.

He felt himself growing heavy gradually as Rainion's skilled mouth did tricks on his torso. Upon feeling a pair of warm hands on his inner thighs, Thranduil couldn't help but let out another gasp. He was about to stifle a moan escaping out his lips when all his efforts were vain as he gasped out sharply yet again when the pair of hands massaged his inner thighs.

The circling motion slowly came very close to his member and the more they inched forward, more Thranduil's mind thickened with millions of sensations, splashing and mingling with each other into a unique feel of its own.

Blue eyes fluttered close and he stretched his limbs very slowly, dragging his heels across the hard mattress as his heart skipped with a flush of sharpness, melting gently into a soothing emotion before thrashing down with a pleasurable pang.

Before he could let out a moan, he felt his lips being sealed with a pair. His nether regions were now becoming burdened and throbbed with a sweet pain which increased with every passing moment.

Thranduil suddenly broke the kiss and looked straight into the other's eyes. He searched for the love which they normally held; he searched for the warmth he always saw in those orbs of molten chocolat.

But now, they were filled with lust. They were gleaming in a shade of blue and were so different from what Thorin normally held in his gaze.

Before his lips could be captured yet again, Thranduil spoke impatiently, "Enough teasing,  _meleth._  Take me. I can hold out no longer."

The familiar yet different eyes grew darker with more ardour before they focused on a bottle of oil lying closer to the bed.

The other dabbed a generous amount of it on his fingers and member after propping Thranduil in a proper position with his legs around the other's waist.

When Thranduil was relaxed enough, he closed his eyes as his entrance burned as a slick finger was inserted into it. He parted his mouth to let out a slight moan before biting his lips. The other took his time to stretch and prepare Thranduil. Then, when another finger was added, the burn in his backside increased and pulsed at the same rate of his heart where undefined emotions plummeted up and down, even filling his mind in the process.

He arched up slightly and threw his head to the other side when another finger was inserted. By now, he was so hard. His mind was swiftly becoming blank and all the sights and sounds around him dulled away to nothingness.

When it was just becoming too unbearable, Thranduil opened his mouth to protest, only to be sighing out in relief as calloused hands took hold of his hips and raised him slightly before another feeling tore throughout his every muscle.

This was the same burning he had felt before— only slower in its radiation and bigger in its entirety. With patience, it slid inside of Thranduil and as it did, it filled his mind with a certain euphoria that numbed all the bodily pain he would now have to endure.

His skin flushed and beads of sweat dappled all over his form. As the other delved deeper within him, Thranduil's eyes became blearier as pleasure blasted like crackers in his mind and heart. His fists clenched more tightly on to the sheets. He brought his leg up and brushed it gently along the sides of the other.

The feeling was intoxicating. Absolute chills of happiness and thrill ran its fingers all over his form when he was rewarded with sinful touched that enhanced the longing fire he felt deep within his chest.

Thranduil's eyes flew open when the other pushed a little more within him, brushing a sweet and tender spot. It was then that the Sinda's mind exploded with all forms of pleasure, battling with themselves to gain dominance and set reign, only to be replaced by another erotic sensation shoving its way in.

His lungs let out a sharp jet of air and just before his throat was about to relieve a pressure of its own, Thranduil's hand flew open and covered his mouth, just in time muffling a moan that made its way out.

Upon hearing the arousing sound, the other shuddered as he was engulfed by an amorous wave crashing against his mind and body. It seemed he too had reached his border of patience. Thus gently, he shifted his stance and just as slowly began thrusting into the other.

Thranduil bucked his lips and guided himself into the intricate dance of fervour and intensity. Their movement became one of perfect synchrony, entwined in strings of an unheard music. Their bodies became one, rising and falling to every beat of their heart and every swing of emotions flowing deep within them.

Gradually, the thrusts became faster; the hands massaging Thranduil's inner thighs became harder and more desperate, pressing into his flesh as the other slowly climbed to the top of his longing.

Their movement increased in pace and as moments fleeted, the cloud of haze lifted slowly from Thranduil's eyes replacing them with a white light which slowly descended upon him, growing brighter and brighter by the second.

Pants and gasps filled the air. Their bodies were now flushed and hot; hair stuck to both of their faces as thick beads of sweat rolled down to coalesce into bigger droplets.

Harder and harder they rocked; each time one pushed into the other, harder the other became. Each time he pulled away, gratification undulated within the Sinda's heart before it came crashing down as the other pushed again.

Thranduil was heaving; his breath swollen from the pure delight he was experiencing, he grew taut and ripe as the blinding white light swam into his already blurred vision, dimming away the darkness of the room just as his ears began muffling the already unclear sounds around him.

An image floated in his mind. An image of a very familiar face which Thranduil could read like a map. The face he had not seen for so long and the face that managed to bring joy to his heart each time it was graced with a generous smile.

A hand grabbed his member and Thranduil felt a sharp jolt as it began massaging him with all its impatience, making Thranduil quiver in anticipation and bliss as the face in his mind let out a hearty laughter, chocolate brown eyes seemingly drilling its feelings and words into him, filling Thranduil with ecstasy that he could never feel for no other.

The strokes became rougher as did the thrusts. Already Thranduil could feel the beginnings of his release and he darted up to grab the other's face, pulling him down for a deep kiss.

The image in his mind was now swimming away; the light in his eyes became brighter and brighter.

He had no sense to feel his surroundings; no feel to anything else that was happening to him; he couldn't think, couldn't speak and couldn't hear when all of his senses were blocked. The blinding light sweeping all over him, his mind exploded with myriad of emotions.

Tears ran down his cheeks as Thranduil finally came, crying out a name that was and would never be foreign to his tongue. He was at the peak of elatedness and he felt soaring high like he had never done before.

After a while, his lover too came within him, screaming out something before capturing his lips into one final long kiss.

Slowly Thranduil's senses returned. The bright light was dimming and in its stead, his eyes could pick up the dimness of the room where they had been engaged in a fortuitous act. As he floated down from an unearthly place, he felt so light and content as if he had been burdened with something for such a long time.

The other gently began pulling himself from Thranduil just as the prince uncoiled his legs from him.

Their breaths were swollen and eyes heavy with the sheer want of sleep. The other dropped unceremoniously beside the Sinda and was about to wrap his hand around him. However, Thranduil moved away just in time and stood up. He closed his eyes for a while longer, silently praying for forgiveness before casting one look at the spent form of his lover for the night.

Quietly, he began collecting his clothes and dressing himself as fast as he could. Then without making any further sound, he gingerly opened the door and left for his own chambers.

He didn't turn back.

If he did, he would see a pair of guilt ridden eyes set upon his retreating back, slowly coming to terms with the situation and diminishing the faint form expectation as soon as they rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oookay, so I think I got a weeeee bit overboard with the smut thing.^^;Yeah, Rainion is that OMC from chapter 8. It means 'gracious'. This is an already dangerous line here I'm treading along. I don't normally use OC's...so if this guy comes out as a 'perfect' elf, tell me ASAP! D: Please review~


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I only own the OMC. Nothing else.
> 
> AN: I was done writing this chapter. So why not update, right? In this chapter, I have tried to show the dimensions of Rainion's character. He is not a cameo and will be playing a major role in this fic. Now, I know that lembas is quite filling and all that but in terms of nutrition, it's nowhere near meat which is an essential protein building component. I could be wrong. In that case, we can always pretend. ^^;
> 
> To those who've commented/kudo'd/bookmarked- thanks a tonne!

"The second sample shows no sign of growing, my king." Oropher was informed disdainfully, making the king stifle a long held sigh that battled its way out of his mouth.

He had not recalled seeing this particular elf in  _his_ patch of land. But the regular overseer now busy with accounting for the items stocked thus far, this youngster had stepped in, temporarily filling his shoes. He was young. And in spite of coming with satisfactory perception—that too from Thranduil himself—Oropher was still weary of his capabilities.

"Even the fertilizer doesn't work?" He asked in a futile attempt to glimmer of some form hope However, it dimmed away as soon as he saw the informant shake his head and look down at his feet.

"What about the pantries? How are they stocked?"

"Quite well. I personally am overseeing the matter." The other elf spoke, pausing just a little bit, as if he debated whether to come clean before his king.

That subtle attempt didn't go amiss from Oropher's keen gaze. He raised a brow and regarded the other expectantly.

Seeing the king's expression allowing no room for unnecessary patience, he drew in a deep breath and said, "Though, the people are fearful, my lord."

Oropher felt his eyes narrowing at the sudden revelation. "Fearful?" His voice didn't try and conceal the worry and surprise as his face contorted to the delicate mix of emotions ramming in his mind.

The young elf stiffened when he was faced with the king's rhetoric. He knew full well that he was expected to elaborate. However, nervousness caressing his ashen face, when he tried his best to avoid the other's gaze and resorted to biting his lips again, Oropher finally let out the sigh he had been holding and prodded, "What are they fearful of?"

It took a long while for the informing elf to gather his courage. It took him longer still to finally will himself to lift his gaze up and meet the other's piercing orbs of forest green. When he did, he seemed a little startled before he went on, "My lord...last year, we— the lembas— they fear if  _this_ year also we are to depend only on lembas breads, then we will have just enough to get by. It won't do. We are already weak from last year and we require nutrition desperately."

The informant finished off, his eyes shining with boldness unaware to him. They immediately widened seconds later as traces of reverence flashed in them and quickly fell on the ground after he hastily bowed and added, "My king."

Even if it wasn't the proper place or time, amusement lighted up Oropher's face as with analytic eyes, he measured the other up. The young elf visibly squirmed and shifted being the object of the king's sole interest and pressed his lips tightly to avoid trembling in fear.

Just when it seemed like him passing out from the sheer tension, Oropher stepped back a little and smirked, letting out an impressed sound.

Confusion marred the other's features as he frowned and hesitantly looked up. His perplexed features quickly melted into one of total cluelessness when he saw a subtle smile crossing the king's lips—a source for Oropher's further amusement.

"What is your name?" The Sinda king finally asked, quite impressed with the tact with which he was addressed. He had ruled Greenwood for quite some time now and although the Silvans were quite strong and resilient, it had been much too long for his subjects to be clear, precise and not docile.

With the king's approval, the other straightened as his face regained some of the colour he had lost. His eyes were still fearful but now they gleamed with a gentle strength that was only possible for someone who had potential leadership qualities.

He inhaled with purpose and spoke, "Rainion, Your majesty." His jaws were set further as a slowly building confidence started crawling in inside him. "I work with the prince."

Pleased, Oropher nodded.

It was evident that their situation needed a great deal of improvement. Still, he felt more relieved knowing that the people of Greenwood would not stay starved. That they were in good hands.

* * *

In his quarters, Thranduil keeled over on the floor. His eyes and lips were drawn to a thin line and his face was that of utter concentration, as if he was willing something to keep itself from showing up.

Beads of sweat accumulated all over his forehead. His pattern of breathing was anything than relaxed. They came out in short and shallow puffs, interrupted by a stifling moan which died down as soon as they tried escaping through Thranduil's throat.

Suddenly, a jagged gasp echoed in the room as Thranduil shot his head up. His eyes flew open and flashed in extreme pain as he clutched his hands around his stomach even tightly, keeling down again on the ground as his whole form began to shake.

His stomach felt like being stabbed with a thousand daggers and as each moment passed, the pain increased, twisting and churning his insides, making him writhe and moan in pure agony.

His eyes flashed red as another agonizing gasp made its way through his mouth. The pain in his lower abdomen pulsed and throbbed with much more ferocity. It was so guttural and so excruciating that seemed to fade the deepest of injuries in comparison.

Lunging forward, Thranduil clenched his jaws even further trying to hold the scream he felt building up inside of him. His head spun from the heavy cramps, radiating from his core to all over his body, which threatened to split his skull open.

Not able to withstand any further, he opened his mouth, exhaling sharply before snapping his mouth shut and rolling over on to the floor.

Even in his disoriented state, Thranduil knew that this pain was not new to him. Months before, he had felt the same torture, hot and razor-sharp in nature, apparently driving its cruel knife into his womb and smirking down upon him while it brought forth unbearable suffering.

A soft whimper came out from his lips curled in distress as he leaned his head to the opposite direction. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and an imminent terror quickly filled them.

The floor felt wet.

He moved his legs a little stilled immediately before hunching more to a foetal position. The more he rolled in anguish, the more his leggings felt wet, leaving behind the same stickiness he now increasingly felt in between his thighs.

The pure horror that was held in his orbs now began deflating quickly and in its stead, they were filled with comprehension and utter sadness as Thranduil began realizing the full extent of what was happening.

His eyes slid close and he writhed and moaned, throwing his head side to side when the excruciating ache exploded within him. Tears began rolling down his cheeks as his body began shaking violently, exhausting itself from the event that was unfolding and the restraint Thranduil exercised for not wanting to scream out.

Pain ruptured his whole being and just when it seemed like death was a viable option, a dull sensation rippled its way inside his body.

Soon every other sense began numbing down as his mind welcomed the comforting blankness. Darkness began descending down his vision and gradually, the pain began dying down. His arms loosened their clasp on his stomach just as his legs began losing their rigidity.

Slowly, Thranduil uncurled himself from the tight little ball he had been in. His head and chest began feeling lighter and lighter as the darkness in his vision grew more and more in intensity.

The pain in his stomach was now barely perceptible. His breathing became more and more relaxed. His mind was now devoid of any feelings, any thoughts. The stiffness in his body began deflating and just as his vision registered nothing but pitch black, his mind gave up all control as it nuzzled the comfort of a void feeling.

His arms soon fell limp by his sides and before he lost his entire consciousness, Thranduil's lips trembled as it let out a choked whimper while he came to terms with a harsh reality.

He had lost another child.

* * *

Rainion's eyes remained fixed at his ceiling. He didn't know for how long he had been lying on his bed but in spite of the toil taking hold of his body, he found it extremely difficult to get an ounce of sleep.

He was not at peace. Partly because of the concern for his people but mostly because the thoughts of a single elf plagued his mind.

For weeks, he had been visited by the prince late at night. For weeks had they been engaging in a forlorn practice. One that was extremely dangerous and frowned upon for mere consideration of their respective status.

Dark eyes narrowed as a sudden sense of difficulty and injustice filled his heart.

During their nights, he had seen the lust glinting in Thranduil's eyes. He had seen the want burning deep within those orbs of piercing blue and each time they landed upon Rainion himself, they suddenly seemed to go darker.

He flinched slightly upon feeling a sharp pang hitting his chest when a new form of revelation was unwrapped before him.

The prince's eyes were lush...but beyond the veil of  _need_ , there was something else which Rainion had picked up. It wasn't the coveted form of wanton. No, it was far darker and dangerous which threatened to consume Thranduil up as nights progressed.

Obsession.

Rainion had come to identify it. Rainion had come to fear it.

It seemed that Thranduil had an imminent need of proving something; of  _gaining_ something. He had not showed any signs of slowing down and Rainion doubted that he would unless he had obtained what he obsessed for.

And yet, Thranduil was so distant...

The pang in his heart grew more and more as hurt bubbled within his chest.

Each time they conjoined, despite of being with Rainion, Thranduil's mind seemed to be present elsewhere.

He drew in a sharp breath that shuddered towards the end as he realized that never once did Thranduil actually call out  _his_  name. Thranduil didn't actually see  _him_.

His face twisted in sadness and he turned to his side, clenching his eyes shut as his heart began throbbing when the ache of comprehension hit him.

How could Thranduil be so insensitive? Could he not see what he was doing to Rainion? Was Thranduil so obsessed in gaining whatever he could not that he disregarded all that was sacred? Was he desperate enough to overlook Rainion's feelings? Was he nothing more than a mere pleasure for the prince?

His eyes began stinging as a heavy feeling sat on his chest, suddenly making it difficult for him to breathe.

After each night, Thranduil would leave. He'd never cast a glance towards the miserable elf who was forcefully reminded what he never was. Each time Thranduil left his chambers, he'd be left glancing at his retreating back. He'd be forcefully reminded what he could  _never_  be.

He opened his eyes and glared at the wall opposite to him. Flashes of anger flickered in them as an overbearing feeling of prejudice clouded his heart.

If he only had refused the prince that first night; if he only had refused the prince the following nights, then neither of them would be put to such a predicament.

He quivered with fear as a sudden trail of thought dawned on him. It was a miracle that no one had found out about their little tryst. So far the Valar had graced them mercy but Rainion knew that the mercy would soon be snatched away from them if they went on further along this treacherous path.

Their act was immoral. And the fact that they had been doing so  _under_ Oropher's roof made it unforgivable.

Rainion betrayed his king's trust. He betrayed his own principles. If King Oropher ever found out, he dared not think of what fate would await him.

Suddenly, a strong feeling reflected from his eyes before hardening with a steely determination.

Passion and lust burned in them as the prince's delicate features poked the darkest corners of his mind. His heart tugged with longing as arousal spread over his insides. When his mind reeled back to the feel of Thranduil's lips and touches all over his body, the ache in his chest all but increased. Each time he saw Thranduil's bright eyes shining into his own gaze, his luscious blond hair splaying seductively upon his moon-kissed form, he felt himself being thrilled and consumed by the fire of his passion.

The more he tried to bury such thoughts in a secret chamber of his head, the more he found himself becoming addicted to the intoxication which was Thranduil.

Soon, the flicker of ambers died down in his eyes. Instead, dark orbs darkened even further as they cradled a certain uncanny zeal. One that matched the same look of distance and desire the ethereal prince had in  _his_ eyes when he let Rainion explore his body.

What they were doing was forbidden. The path they were treading on was dangerous. No good would come out of it.

And yet, Rainion found himself unable to stop. He found himself desiring  _more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So...well, Rainion isn't a dark guy. He isn't going to rape Thranduil or anything but he won't be too fluffy with him for a while. I hope it isn't spoiling anything. But, he is so vital. More than Thorin, I feel. Umm...so...yeah, Thranduil and this guy have a long way to go.
> 
> But meanwhile, do let me know what you think so far. Please give me feedback 'cause they are an awesome form of motivation. :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Had I owned any of J.R.R Tolkien's works, I'd definitely make a Dwelf baby. And Thorin and Thranduil would be getting it on *on screen* and *in the book*. But...here I am, writing such kind of fanfics and disclaimers. Unfair! *sighs*
> 
> AN: So eleven chapters and the plot is heading towards more and more angst. The way I see it, Thorinduil is gonna be an active thing in flashbacks. Because now it's impossible for the two to have fluff (not that it was going to be a fluffy Thorinduil to begin with!). I also doubt if this will be a happy-ending fic. Umm...so that is what I had in my head for a long time. Any suggestions/criticisms? Feel free to throw 'em at me.  
> Thank you to everyone who've supported this fic. :)
> 
>  _'This'_ means dream sequence. 'This' means normal events.
> 
>  **Important:** As I've mentioned in Chapter 1, seeing the length and direction of this fic, I decided to break it in parts. I think it'll be more manageable then and...maybe...a it less complicated?
> 
>  
> 
> **In Response to a Dare:**
> 
>  
> 
> Ahem...soooo...I was dared by my friend to post the most embarrassing moment of my life for a week in any site. Thanks to the penname, I'm posting it here. And I have no regrets. XD
> 
> We were in a very boring class. Whatever the professor was saying almost put us to sleep. Now, I am a very talkative person. And my buddy is one too. So I was telling her about this Mughal Empire AU where Akbar was a kid who just had 'the talk'. He was 'practicing' using the ladies from the harem and he loved Laila the best because she was so alluring. Now, he married Jodha after a few years. Now Jodha hated his guts. She knew her wifely duties. So when he commanded her, she raised her skirt and lay down while Akbar did it. He was done in seconds. My friend started giggling at the 'lifting up the skirt' portion. Now I was whispering. I am sure I wasn't loud. But Ma'am somehow heard me. She was scolding another boy before she turned at me and said, "I'LL GIVE YOU A TIGHT SLAP!" The whole class was looking at me and I am such a hopeless girl, I was STILL blushing! Then I saw the whole class sniggering and ma'am was blushing too. Then it occurred to me...if SHE could hear it, maybe the whole class did too! Then it occurred to me: I was really excited describing the smut in the book...so maybe I wasn't whispering at all! 
> 
> So I was asked to leave the class BUT everyone cheered and clapped and wished me kudos. All the other classes saw this and they were staring at me while I waited the last 10 minutes of the class outside. In the corridor. I was still giggling. 
> 
> I would totally recommend the book but I lent it from a friend and I forgot what it was called. :(

_It was pitch dark and_   _not a single star outshone the cover of night. The moon would peep in and out of the thick veil of clouds and unlike the stars it provided not enough means to help Thorin's sense of direction._

_He looked around and wherever his eyes landed, he saw trees. Tall, dark and ancient, they seemed to soar high up into the sky, concealing whatever little light Thorin got from the moon._

_Swallowing hard, Thorin took a deep breath as he ran his fingers over the bark of one particular tree His forehead creased with a frown when massive amounts of concern and fear began gripping his heart tightly._

_The bark bore a mark: the very mark which Thorin's knife made not too long ago. Yet, he hadn't stopped. He hadn't made any new marks and there was most certainly no one else who knew the mark of a Durin._

_His eyes grew wide and he stepped away. A cold realization swept over his mind and as a result, his heart thrummed so loud that he was sure anyone in the near vicinity could hear it._

_Quickly, he took out his sword and stepped cautiously. His senses were heightened. His mind was on full alert and as anticipation drilled its way inside of him, the hold on the hilt of his sword grew tighter and tighter, making sure the only means of his protection didn't slip out of his palms which were now sweating._

_With each move he made, his sharp eyes scanned his surroundings, causing him much alarm every time, there would be sound. Even of the faintest form like murmuring of leaves._

_He narrowed his eyes in extreme focus as he took another step forward. The forest became more disorienting. The more he walked, the more enclosing it seemed, willing to trap Thorin in its eternal oblivion._

_Exhaling, Thorin wearily made his way. By now, his ears took in all the forest emitted. The scraping sound of a cricket grew louder with the growing night. The rustling of dead leaves became crisper as his feet fell upon them. Occasionally, soft gust of breezes would caress the trees, shaking their branches and teasing their leaves, letting out a rustic chime that made the night all the more eerie._

_It was then that Thorin had to question himself. Why did he have to break away from his company? Why couldn't he have waited till they reached the safety of that elf kingdom? Doriath, he believed. It was but a day's march. Why couldn't he leave the animal track where it had been? It was far away from where they made camp, anyway!_

_He turned sharply when he heard a sudden cry. Instinct overtook him as he raised his weapon and set about in a defensive stance. He was ready to strike a fatal blow whenever it dared approach him._

_Just then, a rustle of a branch and some leaves could be heard and Thorin looked up with a jolt, tensing when an owl flew past the canopy into that of some other tree._

_Thorin closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh. His body relaxed and he lowered his arms, breathing a few times to calm his rapidly beating heart._

_However, whatever relief he had gathered evaporated immediately when his ears picked up the sound of a twig breaking. The sound came from behind and in a flash, Thorin faced the other direction, weapon in arms, rigidly and alertly waiting for the upcoming threat._

_He frowned deeply, inhaling with sharpness as another sound of dead leaves flowed towards him. His keen eyes looked around frantically, searching for any sign of what the threat could be. His heart started racing— bit by bit increasing in its pace— as the forest had dappled with a forlorn stillness._

_The tension was palpable. Danger was imminent._

_Another sound was heard and he gripped his sword even tightly, narrowing his eyes to try and cut through the surrounding darkness._

_Suddenly, out of the corner of his vision, he saw a shadow moving behind the trees. Spinning around with an uncanny agility, Thorn's grip on the sword tightened even further as every fibre of his muscle held a rigidity which would snap immediately at the slightest form of attack._

_Another sound...another one..._

_It grew louder. As if it was approaching Thorin himself._

_He held his breath and pinned his gaze between bushes where the sound seemed to be coming from._

_Another rustling of leaves._

_All of a sudden, Thorin leapt into action. His eyes had caught the movement of a large being. Without wasting any time, he raised his sword and swung it violently, only to be caught in utter shock when his weapon clanged against some other metal, sending Thorin tumbling back just as swiftly._

_Thorin's eyes were widened with the pure astonishment, catching the cruel gleam which could only be made by the blade of a sword. As the glint became visible, it traced a curve path, which was significantly that of a sword._

_Gritting his teeth, Thorin quickly gathered his bearings and took another stance, readying himself for the next blow to come._

_He was taken aback once more when none of his anticipation came true._

_His eyes had now adjusted well to the darkness. He could now make out that the shadow belonged to no feral creature of the forest. But...to a man?_

_But what would a man be doing in these regions?_

_Keeping his gaze fixed on the shadow, Thorin squinted his eyes. As he tried harder, he could see the lean built of his opponent, crouched in a similar alert pose but only, he seemed to be more...elegant._

_He was about to ask for an identity or a purpose but his need died down as the moon beams faintly illuminated the spot—enough for Thorin to_ see.

_It was then that Thorin could make out the other. It was then that his breath hitched._

_Standing before him was no man. The creature had long, blond which shone brilliantly even in the dimmest of lights. His face was smooth and flawless. His eyes directed at Thorin revealed confidence and warning, daring Thorin to make any move against him. His lips were parted slightly as the other took Thorin in, deciding whether or not he posed a threat._

_His hands were placed on his sword and it was the glint of that particularly reversed curved edge which had caught Thorin's eyes. From the make, it was sure to be elvish. As the moonbeams fell on it, it shone with such a deadliness causing Thorin's heart to be filled with a new kind of thrill._

_And as the cool rays caressed the delicate features of the creature himself, brushing against his luscious brows, long tipped nose, tips of his pointed ears, delicate cheeks and lips, he glowed with in eeriness and beauty, that took Thorin's breath away._

_Thorin had seen elves. Thorin had found them fair._

_But this one...this one was probably what Mahal took utmost care to build, pouring his love and exasperating talent, all in one single form._

With a huge gasp, Thorin's eyes flew open. He let out a groan, rubbing his temples while his mind was still addled with the images remnant in his head. They were so vivid and clear...as if it was only yesterday when the event had taken place.

The dwarf sat up, placing a hand on his chest, trying his best to calm his heart down from the overwhelming dream he had seen.

But it was more than that. It was a memory.

A memory when he and Thranduil had first met. A chuckle escaped Thorin's lips unbeknownst to him as he replayed the occurrence over and over in his head.

As irony would have it, most epic tales of love would begin in a romantic backdrop where the main protagonists were gentle and shy and full of mirth.

Thorin honestly doubted how many began with two individuals trying to  _almost_ kill each other, thinking either one was a wild animal! Though much to his relief, both he and Thranduil came to the conclusion that either of them was harmless. And that Thorin was indeed lost. And that Thranduil was simply unable to sleep.

Later, Thorin would come to know Thranduil and his father arranging for their new realm in Doriath while he and his consort were maintaining diplomacy with the king. Later, Thorin would come to know how strongly he felt for the elf and how strongly the elf felt for him.

A knock on his door interrupted Thorin from his thought. He groaned with sluggishness and commanded with a sleep-laden voice, "What is it?"

"You are expected, my prince." He was replied by a humble attendant.

"Expected? For what?" He asked, frowning in confusion. He didn't recall any special event. He wasn't to leave for...wherever it was for a few days!

The attendant looked perplexed as well, making Thorin wonder just what he had missed.

Finally the other dwarf responded with an amusing tone, "Your engagement, Your Majesty."

At that, all of his confusion vanished away.

He had completely forgotten about it. Rather, he didn't bother to remember.

Thorin's heart suffered another deep wretch as his mind quickly shuffled through the long cherished memory. Soon, he'd have to pledge himself to one who could never hold his heart. Soon, he'd vow to a life of feign and false promises.

Soon he'd have nothing but memories of his true One to hold dear. For he could now never hold Thranduil close; never taste the sweetness of his lips nor hear the chime of his laughter.

* * *

"What?" Oropher's eyes flashed with hurt pride as he furiously glared at his son. "You want to travel Doriath? For excess food?"

Thranduil remained calm and his confidence never wavered under the scrutinizing gaze of his father, which all but increased Oropher's anger as he sneered, "Do you realize what this represents? That I am not a proper king. That I am unable to sustain my people!"

"Weakening them just to satisfy your image in front of Thingol is no act of a proper king too, Adar!" Thranduil responded haughtily, looking straight towards the king.

Oropher's eyes flashed at the insolence displayed before him. "Are you lecturing me now, boy?" He admonished, ego flashing in those green orbs before they hardened much like his tone. "Are you so grown to advice your own father and king?"

"I merely suggest what could be good for our people." Thranduil replied, an exasperated expression etched on his face. "I never doubt your judgement, Adar. I only counsel you this time for we have endured a harsh winter before. Our people are weak!"

" _You_ haven't endured anything!" All of a sudden, Oropher's voice echoed throughout the hall, causing everyone—including Thranduil—to startle. Bewildered eyes stayed frozen on the king as he sharply rose up from his throne.

" _You_ were in Erebor while  _we_ had to endure.  _You_  were in the arms of that dwarf while  _we_  had to toil ourselves to gather enough food!" Oropher's eyes were blazed with anger and as he spoke, his tongue could no longer hold in the venom he unknowingly held against that Godforsaken race.

"And to what effect?" he hissed, coming down and heading straight towards the prince. "And to what effect?" He stood before Thranduil whose gaze still was fixed upon him. "Where has it gotten you? You were  _used_ by that ill-willed house. You were  _blamed_ by those uneducated Halflings and you were cast aside after they had no use of you! Where did your judgement go then? Where was your counsel when  _you_ needed it the most?"

He widened his eyes and gasped sharply as his words abruptly faced a halt. His lips trembled and a huge wave of shock rolled within his chest as he began seeing clearly. The rage he had in him subsided away in a matter of seconds as he took in the widened eyes of his own son.

Thranduil's face was ashen and his eyes...his eyes trembled with much aghast. Filled with shock and a sense of betrayal, he looked at his father, his mouth ajar, stricken at what escaped Oropher's mouth.

The king realized he had caught himself too late. He felt his heart twisting with a sense of guilt while he tried to suck in air, crushed out from his lungs.

"My son." Gingerly, he tried to place a hand on Thranduil's shoulder. But when the other jerked away, Oropher curled his fingers and took his hand down forming a tight fist as his chest began throbbing with increasing sense of remorse.

A crushing silence followed and sprayed the hall a thick and uncomfortable feeling.

Suddenly, Thranduil's shock dissipated and face clenched with restraint. His eyes shone with the familiar resolve he had about him and he spoke in a certain voice capturing Oropher's entire attention, "Doriath will not think of us any lesser. It has food. It has solutions. Now that I bear the right judgement, Adar, I will go there."

Seeing the determinism in the other, Oropher sighed. He closed his eyes, contemplating in his mind a lot before he spoke, opening them with finality, "Very well."

He saw the speck of relief bordering the other's face and resisted the urge to frown when he thought he had seen Thranduil swaying on his legs. However, he chalked it up to his mind playing tricks as he double checked the firmness in his son's stance and said, "You shall go to Doriath. Take Rainion with you. He assists you and he can help."

Thranduil opened his lips but closed it immediately. Perhaps he was going to protest, which was why Oropher spoke again, but this time with a bit more influence in his voice, "You  _both_ shall leave within this week. Return as soon as possible."

Thranduil bowed and left. He was heard taking a deep breath and at that, Oropher resisted his own urge to sigh.

He had not intended to say all those things to Thranduil. He hadn't intended to blame him! How could he? But those dwarves...after what they did, he was not at all surprised to find the extent of his anger towards them.

They were troublesome. They could not be trusted.

* * *

Rainion brushed away a stray lock away from Thranduil's face. They were to leave in two days' time and once again they had performed their casual encounter.

Once more Thranduil looked distant; once more he cried out his unknown  _meleth's_  name; once more did Rainion's heart get stabbed with a pang of sadness and jealousy.

With a mellowed gaze, he looked at the peaceful face of his prince as he continued stroking his hair. Thranduil didn't mind. He wasn't even aware. However, this time was different. Thranduil looked... _paler_ than usual. And Thranduil  _slept._

For once, he didn't leave.

Worry filled the elf's heart but soon, it was washed over with an unrequited pang. For all Rainion knew, he must've been dreaming about the one who held his heart. And it wasn't him.

Rainion  _knew._  And he  _hated_ being used as a secondary. Especially when he held great feelings for the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably guessed where Thorin is supposed to be heading and you've guessed right. But for what, you wonder...unless...you've figured it out too (which is most likely). Anyway, what do you think of this insane work so far? If there are spaces for improvement, do let me know!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: As much as I wish to, I don't own 'The Hobbit'.
> 
> AN: A bit more glimpse of what is yet to come. A bigger bite into Rainion's character. ;)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who've motivated me. You are awesome!
> 
> A note of apology for taking it so long. My new schedule is just...well...uncertain. I'll try my best but I think the uploads will be slower. :( Sorry!
> 
> 'This' means dream sequence. 'This' means normal events.
> 
> Chapter 12

Thorin rode as fast and hard as he could. His men followed him closely. The small band of dwarves had ridden for days. They hadn't stopped for rest. Their bodies alert in every possible way, they hadn't felt the need to stop...nor did they have any intentions of doing so.

Not one pair of eyes went by without sleep; not one single mind could do away with the chain of events freshly imprinted on to them. Their faces hard and tensed, anxiety-laden fear overwhelmed by a thrill of win clouded over their orbs. They had done what they didn't set out to do. And none felt remorse.

None except their proud leader, who rode ahead, his face unreadable but his heart and mind thickened with the worry. Worry of what would follow their act. Worry over the consequences of what had been done.

Riding for a few more hours, Thorin finally slowed his steed and raised a hand signalling for the others to stop. He climbed down and very cautiously scanned the area.

It didn't have the luxury of setting a proper camp and certainly, it was not in a clearing where the men could finally relax.

Though, that wasn't his priority.

The area was thick with trees. Trees reaching for the sun; trees shielding them away from prying eyes, enough for them to feel safe and catch their breaths.

Truthfully, the situation they were in, even catching a breath seemed like an ample luxury.

Rainion looked with concern at the prince, who was riding a little ahead of him. As days progressed back in Greenwood, Thranduil seemed paler and weaker and had little interest in their encounters. And during their journey, Thranduil's interest inintercourse had completely diminished. He would seem weak for a few hours but with time, he'd seem fine.

It wasn't that he stopped more nor that he wanted to. But there would be times when he could absolutely look worse. However, what was curious enough was the fact that quite soon into their journey, Thranduil bean regaining some of his colour. Unless Rainion was mistaken, he could swear that the prince  _glowed._

It wasn't much but it was  _there_. Something different about him was not going unnoticed.

"Your Highness," he addressed the other in a humble tone, "It is almost evening. Would you like us to set camp?"

At that, Thranduil turned ever so slightly and looked at the other with a coldness and a sense of pride, making Rainion to lower his gaze and be reminded of his status.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Thranduil regarding the state of his company before he was brought back to attention at the sound of a commanding voice, "Head for a clearing. We shall rest there."

Thranduil spoke with a bit more volume, allowing for the others to hear. With a wave of his hand, he signalled the company to follow him, quite apparent that he remembered the path since the last time he came from Doriath.

Having spoken no other words, the company of elves started to move as their prince rode ahead not sparing a second glance at Rainion.

 _Ignored yet again_ , the Silvan thought bitterly as he commanded his horse to catch up with the prince. As he rode along side, he often stole numerous glances at the blond beauty riding proudly and elegantly. Each time he looked, he felt the expectation in his heart rising. He had hoped that Thranduil would at least acknowledge him. Call him by his name.  _Look_ at him!

However each time his hope got shattered, piercing his heart in the cruellest of ways.

His eyes darted curiously when peripherals caught a motion of Thranduil slipping his hand in his cloak. A frown crossed his temples when he vaguely caught the shape of some sort of a bottle.

He found himself wondering numerous probabilities of its content when slender fingers discreetly opened it and raised it to Thranduil's lips as the Sinda took calculated sips of what appeared to be a red coloured liquid.

He felt his eyes narrowing inquisitively when Thranduil put it back inside with extreme carefulness.

He had not seen the prince taking anything during the times they spent. It was only during their travel did he actually managed to catch a glimpse of the other fiddling with the queer looking bottle. What was really curious was that, when Thranduil became aware of prying eyes towards it, he swiftly hid it away and acted as if he had nothing in his hands to begin with!

Brown orbs widened all of a sudden as he was hit with a sudden realization. His mouth had gone slack and before he was extremely obvious, Rainion snapped it shut and practically glared at the road ahead.

Of course! How could he be so blunt?

His mind churned while it tied all the loose threads forming a tapestry of what he believed to be the appropriate explanation.

The sudden paleness and then the radiance after, the way he  _carefully_  took swigs of that bottle of whatever it was...everything—  _everything—_ pointed out to one possibility.

As his mind connected all the dots, his heart suddenly felt so hot and painful, twisting in a wretched mess as it filled Rainion with a great tightness all over him.

He struggled to exhale controllably all the while his mind spun with torrents of disappointment.

_Am I so unworthy?_

He felt his eyes sting as his focus increased ahead of the track.

_Am I of no meaning to you? Do you find me so repulsive that you cannot bear the thought of me while you are sober?_

His heart wrenched with a sudden agony—one too indescribable and too unbearable.

_Never once do you come to me for my affections. Never once have you asked me how I feel to this whole arrangement. Do you think of me to be nothing more than a servant catering to your whim? Don't I have any desire of my own?_

He found himself unable to look at the prince. He didn't  _dare_ to _._ He was fearful of the apathy and disgust that could be reflected from those enchanting orbs. He feared the hurt and anger reflected off from his own.

 _You use me and leave me to be. You wish for no attachment. You care for no other's feelings. You don't want to see those of my own!_ Why? _What have I done wrong?_

His vision grew bleary and his chest felt like being constricted with an upsurge of unmentionable emotions.

His chest hurt. It became painful to breathe. Each time he inhaled, needles pierced his lungs. The more he blinked, the hazier his sight became.

 _All I have done is pour my love over you. Why can't you see that? Why_ won't _you see that?_

The torment in his heart soon subsided, making way for a calmness which swept all over him. It was so cold and so harsh that Rainion was afraid to dissect it. He was afraid of what he might find.

All that rang in his mind was the revolting idea that he didn't deserve such fate. He shouldn't have to be treated so! He was tired of being treated as a whim!

His eyes hardened as did his jaws. Casting one strong gaze at the blonde elf's back, he let his sight linger there before narrowing his eyes and looking away.

He was  _tired_  of being a toy.

* * *

Thranduil leaned back on his makeshift bed, savouring the quietness of his tent. He took out the bottle he had been carrying with him and took his evening dosage—exactly as the healer had recommended.

Taking another intended portion of the drought, he sighed and placed it back to its proper place.

It was always tucked deep under his cloak for he didn't want others to know about his condition. It was nothing to flaunt and certainly, he didn't have a knack for sympathy.

His eyes slowly became unfocused. As the day's burden caught up to him, he let his mind float in a calming sea of thoughts as he was caressed gently by a much welcomed sleep.

_Cool water lapped around his feet as Thranduil sat along the bank of a small brook. A light smile appeared on his lips as lightly he moved his legs, playing with the stream and enjoying the feel of water stroking them with extreme gentleness._

_A chuckle escaped his lips as a warm pair of lips was pressed against his nape. In response, Thranduil leaned his head, enough for the other to trail his kisses along the side of his neck, down to his collar bone before settling at the nice spot adjacent to his shoulder blade._

" _My my! You're in a gracious mood today." He said, gliding his eyes to the other._

" _It is not very often that I enjoy the sunset with such divinity." Thorin replied, his voice restful and hushed, before he lead a train of kisses along Thranduil's jaw line._

_The elf laughed heartily. His eyes shining with love and mirth, he turned to face the other, letting out a gasp when Thorin's lips landed on his supple cheeks._

_He placed a palm over the other's chest and began massaging it gently. Thorin imitated the action with his thumb, gently brushing Thranduil's lower lips as he sucked the corner of his mouth._

" _You give me too much credit." Thranduil rasped out, elegant hands circling around the other's neck and drawing him close while he played with Thorin's hair._

_He arched his neck when his heart became full with warmth and giddiness as Thorin's lips brushed over Thranduil's top one._

_Hesitantly, Thranduil parted his lips slightly, enjoying the feel of how the tip of Thorin's nose ghosted against his own, brushing gently while his hot breath tickled every nerve in the elf's body. He twitched his lips a little and engaged in a delicate dance of skirting and almost avoiding as both of their pair of lips ghosted about one another, enjoying the pulsating warm breaths hitting their already flushed face._

_Thorin's hands found their way around Thranduil's waist. Rubbing slow circles, they gradually moved forward and slipped under the fine tunic, caressing Thranduil's flesh as they travelled back and forth in a vagabond manner._

_Thranduil's own hands went up and down Thorin's hair, coming in front to caress his cheeks before disappearing back into the thick mane._

_Sensations of ecstasy rippled through his whole body and his heart leapt with an anticipation which only increased as more and more time passed with those delicious lips towering over his own._

_Gradually, they came closer and closer, placing a chaste kiss before pulling away and brushing against his cheeks and nose._

_Thranduil's lips moved slightly, clearly expecting more of what was promised in that quick pressing of lips._

_His cheeks burned and a slow fire rose from his neck and spread to the tip of his ear. His heart was fluttering wildly as if thousands of butterflies wanted to be set free. The cool touch of water at his feet brought amazing sensations in which he was rapidly becoming involved._

_Thorin's lips brushed past once again. Once more did Thranduil's heart leap in hopes of satisfying the growing need that he felt for the other._

_A tongue glided along the outskirts of his lower lip and as Thranduil parted his mouth a little more, he felt his lips being folded in a safe cocoon as Thorin pressed his lips against his own._

_Slowly, he kissed Thranduil's upper and lower ones in an alternating fashion, eliciting a slight tremble from the other who wrapped his arms tightly against the dwarf, moving his lips lightly in pace, returning the gesture of love._

_Their kiss deepened. Gradually, Thorin claimed Thranduil's lips in fullness, tilting his head as he used his tongue to prod his way in._

_Thranduil let out a little moan of pleasure as he stroke the other's tongue with his own, feeling Thorin shudder at the mere contact which made him to delve further and explore every bit of Thranduil's mouth._

_The elven being parted his mouth a little more, enjoying the feel of lips moving against lips, little sucks and nibbles placed on them as Thorin's tongue caressed each of the walls of his mouth, sending jolts of pleasure down his spine._

_Thranduil's eyes fluttered close. One of his legs brushed against the other, sending waves of thrill up and down his body. Thorin's hands were warm and roaming all over his flushed skin. His lips skilfully moved with a precise rhythm. As his tongue explored deeper into Thranduil's sweet mouth, the elf's mind became overwhelmed with emotions and pleasure, exploding like crackers in the midst of a celebration._

_For it_ was _one. It_ was _a celebration. One that sealed the full union of two hearts. One that filled them with love and promises of days to come._

In his sleep, the smallest of all smiles appeared on Thranduil's lips. Nuzzling into his pillow, Thranduil let out the softest of moans. His heart lightened up as he dreamt of that precious piece of memory and all of a sudden, he was filled with hope and optimism. Hope of their promises being fulfilled. Hope of their love being completed.

And this time, the hope was anything but unrealistic; it was anything but hollow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you can guess what will happen next! :D Please review and lemme know what you think of this so far~


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: As much as I wish to, I don't own 'The Hobbit'.
> 
> AN: Well...I thought I had posted this chapter...but I guess I somehow missed it. Anyway, here is the next chapter. There's a bit of fluff in this chapter but there's some serious drama here as well. A plot twist, you may say and a crucial point of this story.
> 
> To everyone who've reviewed/kudo'd/bookmarked- you have my sincere thanks. I am humbled that you guys are liking it.

Rainion startled awake at the crack of dawn. It had been an unknown instinct that nudged him in his heart and because of it, he now found himself wandering outside his tent and moving towards that of the elven prince.

His mind rebuked him; told him not to take a step further; that the prince was entitled to his privacy. However his heart contradicted every thought, thus making him to check up on the prince.

He paused right outside Thranduil's tent and debated for a while. His curiosity soon overpowered his courtesy as a hesitant hand reached for the flap and gingerly opened it aside.

Rainion's heart sunk at what awaited him inside.

The bedding was empty. Thranduil was nowhere in sight and the others hadn't woken up yet to notice where the prince went.

A frown crossed his temples as a deep concern teased Rainion's heart. Lingering about for a few more moments, he rushed back to his own tent. With quick hands, he took out the map that was given to him and let his eyes trace over the supposed area where they were camping. With a careful finger, he traced back to the nearby brook before again coming centre to the clearing and trailing his finger over a small track that was generally used for trade.

His mind began forming ideas of the likely places that could capture Thranduil's attention. Given the state he displayed, Thranduil most likely would love to be in a place which would be isolated from unwanted attention. Keeping that in mind, it now became easier for him to chalk up Thranduil's whereabouts.

As the idea solidified, Rainion wasted no time as he headed for the most likely direction.

Thranduil sighed and relaxed as splashes of water soothed his bare legs. Morning light had just began breaking in the east. All around him, the forest indulged in such a serenity that seemed divine and calmed the elf. To be honest, he didn't recall the last time since he had truly relaxed after his return from Erebor. This forest seemed to provide him an excellent retreat.

Swishing his legs in the water, Thranduil leaned back and enjoyed as the cool morning breeze brushed his face.

Finally, he was free of the burning sensation in his throat as the cause of it became a morning routine for several days.

He slid his eyes shut and let his mind float back to the happier times where he would marvel at the odd creature in front of him, who in turn would be amused by a form completely different from his own. He'd remember the shy looks, the benign smiles and the light blushes when they'd meet among the convoys while heading to or from Doriath. He would remember the enchanting voice of the other that would draw him in to a fantasy. He remembered the light kisses, the hesitant touches, the touches evolved from need, the touches evolved from want, the slow building of fire when passion would overtake them, the ache and joy when their deepest desires would be fulfilled; silent agreements, unspoken love, whispered promises—Thranduil remembered it all.

Blue eyes opened suddenly as faint sounds were picked up by his sensitive ears. Alertness filling them, Thranduil darted his eyes around. He grabbed his sword quickly and pulled away from the brook, hauling himself on his feet as the sounds became louder.

Clearly whoever it was didn't intend on concealing himself.

Using his thumb, Thranduil parted the sheath from his sword and very carefully hold the hilt using another arm. Stealth graced his every movement. His eyes narrowed in focus, Thranduil directed his central vision at the bushes from where the sound seemed to be emerging.

Judging by its nature, it was someone who was heavy footed and therefore was not an elf—certainly not from his company.

Caution gripped him tight and he felt a flutter in the pits of his stomach, making him all the more attentive and alert at whatever threat was approaching him.

Louder and louder the rustling of dead leaves and twigs became. Thranduil felt himself growing taut with concentration. Every fibre of his muscle was on high alarm. The trained fighter as we was, Thranduil was ready to launch an attack should he caught a glimpse of a foe.

The leaves of the bushes moved slightly, indicating how close he was to this unknown being. He drew in his breath and never once left his focused eyes leave the spot as the movement of the bushes became distinct.

His eyes broadened suddenly and due to reflex, he slackened in his stance as finally the 'foe' came into view.

"Gracious!" It was the other who had expressed is genuine surprise. And if his voice wasn't a giveaway, the wide-eyed, bewildered look Thorin Oakenshield had about him spoke volumes of what he  _didn't_ expect to find.

As for Thranduil, his jaws lost all the tension and his mouth hung ajar as he shook his head in surprise. Soon, the elven prince's face cracked as a slow smile crept over it and his eyes twinkled before he found himself throwing his sword and rubbing his cheeks, unsure of how to express the fountain of emotions crashing down upon him.

Thorin's eyes softened. His lips curled into a smile and before he knew it, he was pulled into a hard embrace as butterfly kisses trailed all over his face.

"Thorin." Thranduil whispered drawing away from the other by a mere gap, his eyes shifting left and right, holding the other's gaze before he pulled the other back into another embrace.

"What were the odds?" Thorin breathed out, delighted at the unexpected reunion which he never dared to dream about.

Thranduil gasped as he swallowed back a sob threatening to out itself through his voice, sighing contently as his mouth was captured by a pair of very longing lips as gentle hands began running up and down his back. He tipped his head slightly and opened his mouth, welcoming the other to explore every bit of him and declare his love as Thorin did without the use of any words.

They broke away only when air was necessary and for a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply held each other's gazes and let their eyes speak on behalf of them about how much they missed and yearned for each other.

It was Thorin who finally broke their silence, "How have you been?"

Thrandui's eyes flickered for a moment before they adorned a genuine happiness.

"I am well  _now_." He replied, lacing their fingers together and closing his eyes as Thorin trailed gentle kisses over his knuckles.

Silence again befell them and both regarded each other shyly.

Cheeks tinged with a warm shade of red, Thranduil smiled as his heart was filled up with content, joy and an indescribable feeling which soothed him all over.

"Do you remember this place?" He asked after a while, his voice low and soft, his eyes dancing with brightness.

Thorin's eyes lit up as well when the memory swirled in his mind.

"Yes, it is where we had our first kiss." He nodded, biting his lips as he added further, "Your father was looking for you. But you were not really worried."

Thranduil chuckled, his eyes lightening up even further as he recalled, "You seemed nervous and came up with such silly excuses."

"Silly but one saved us though!"

"Telling my father you were lost?  _Surely_ that was as original as it seemed." A sly smirk crawled on to his lips as Thranduil said in a cheeky tone, "Then again, knowing you, it was passable for the truth when he  _first_ met."

Thorin's cheeks reddened all of a sudden and he let out a blasphemous expression. "That was because it was very dark!" He defended at which Thranduil laughed louder.

"Oh I'm sure that it  _became_ dark. Although...it's dawn now." He added while looking around, pretending to sound very boggled as he frowned, "And here you are. I wonder why it must be so! This is most curio—"

He couldn't finish his thoughts as Thranduil found himself being tackled to the ground. Laughter filled the woods as he flailed while Thorin grunted and laughed, pinning his arms down while sitting on his chest.

"And here  _you_ are!" Thorin huffed indignantly, rolling his eyes at the coy looking elf, "I wonder why it must be so. This is most curious as _you_ were never the one to rise  _this_ early."

"I'm an elf. I enjoy Nature." Thranduil retorted back playfully, raising his brow when his answer caused Thorin to roll his eyes yet again.

"Oh save it." Thorin smirked, "Unless of course  _I_ wore you out."

At that, Thranduil formed a smirk of his own as he raised a brow and nodded his head minutely, which made Thorin's smirk to grow even more.

The playfulness soon faded away and was replaced by a solemn expression on Thorins face. In response to that, Thranduil's cheekiness faded away as well as he felt his heart beating with a rhythm and pumping a fluttering feeling all throughout his body.

"What are you doing here?" Thorin asked, sliding off the other and lying down beside him on the grass as he lightly caressed Thranduil's lower lip with the tip of his thumb.

Thranduil's lips trembled at the contact, his heart thumping even faster as new thrills showered down upon him. He leaned in closer and kissed Thorin's finger.

"I am attending something on behalf of my father." Thranduil replied, leaving out the details as he didn't want to sadden Thorin with his troubles. "What about you?"

"I am returning after a negotiation. It was hard to do. But we managed." Thorin responded as lightly as he could but behind it, the constraint in his tone didn't go unnoticed by the elf.

Figuring a reason similar to his own, Thranduil nodded and looked up, letting his eyes fall shut when Thorin captured his lips once again.

The kiss was slow. Thorin's lips undulated between his own, sucking lightly before moving on to the other. Thanduil wrapped his arms around the other and drew Thorin over him, letting his arms run wild over the dwarf's legs firmly which were planted on the ground before moving them over to his back and tangling into his thick mane.

Encouraged, Thorin tilted his head and deepened his kiss, stroking his tongue at the inner walls of Thranduil's lips making the elf shudder in pleasure and open his mouth even more.

He felt the warm tongue sliding inside of his mouth and caressing every corner of it with a suppressed passion, which intensified as Thorin delved deeper.

Thranduil sighed and moved his lips against the other, tipping his own head in the opposite direction as he responded back just as enthusiastically using his tongue.

Slowly he brought his leg up. Placing it against the stout form of the other, he started brushing it against Thorin's side. His hands loosened their grip and fell beside him, pressing against the ground and caressing it before enclosing a fist around the soft, moist grass, giving it a tug.

He brought his leg down, dragging his heel along the soil as his mind exploded with pleasure stemming from his heart.

Thranduil felt so refreshed. The burden he had on his chest was finally beginning to lift and he silently prayed to the Valar for countless number of times for once again making their paths cross.

Thorin slowly began pulling away, lightly nibbling on his lips before finally breaking the kiss.

Lips swollen and pants echoing off the trees, Thranduil opened his eyes, shimmering like the morning dew as a light blush dusted across his cheeks.

Thorin's eyes were dreamy— taken back to the far away times when they were together. His cheeks were flushed and the way he looked at Thranduil did strange things to the elf which he could no longer put into words.

"Thranduil..." Thorin began, falling down beside the other and stroking Thranduil's chest with his palm. "I can't stay long. I must leave soon."

Thranduil sighed and for a while spoke nothing. Thorin's massages were lowering further down onto his torso and towards his belly, making him involuntarily suck in a breath. He finally sighed and said with utmost sincerity, "But it shouldn't be permanent."

Thorin's hand stopped momentarily as he looked at the other with clear befuddlement, "But...my grandfather..."

A sudden mirth began pouring in the alluring blue orbs as Thranduil informed, a small smile showing on his lips, "Oh  _meleth._  He won't object now. I am sure of it." He cupped the other's chin with one if his hand and gazed into Thorin's eyes with pure belief as he spoke, "I am sure of it."

Thorin's eyes softened and when Thranduil lay on his back again, he resumed his caresses. "But it is not that simple." He explained, letting his hand approach the other's stomach. "I am—"

He paused abruptly, running his hand up and down the area with a sudden haste.

" _Meleth_?" Thranduil called out but was deflated immediately when a muddled frown appeared in between Thorin's brows.

Suddenly, Thorin sat up.

As he ran his hands over some more, Thorin's confusion slowly morphed into disbelief. His eyes flashed with anger. As he directed them over to Thranduil, the elf's calmness faded away before cold bouts of fear and stress invaded his heart.

"Thorin?" He asked, bringing a hand to hold Thorin's palm settling over his torso.

Thorin flinched his hand away, at which Thranduil panicked as he sat up and called again when the other's face portrayed shock. " _Meleth_?"

A shuddered breath escaped Thorin's mouth and it took him a while before he could bring himself to face Thranduil. As he did, all Thranduil saw was disapproval and betrayal, shattering the joyous feeling Throin held in his eyes.

"It doesn't feel flat." Thorin wheezed out, "Thranduil, are you..."

Before he could finish speaking, Thorin tore his eyes away and glared at the ground.

"Yes my love!" Thranduil responded, desperation laced in his voice as his eyes quivered, pleading for Thorin to look at him. "Yes, I am with child."

He smiled but somehow it came out feigned with underlying fear. "Thorin? Thorin! Now we can be together." He spoke but the more he did, more Thorin seemed to be disgusted.

Fear clouded Thranduil's heart which beat rapidly as desperation set in. Still, he went on. He tried to explain, refusing to give up. "Don't you see? We have an heir. Thrór or my father won't have anything to object now. We can be happy!"

"By Mahal Thranduil! Whose is it?" Thorin's eyes flashed in pain. His voice was already strained and his eyes were red from holding back tears.

"Ours!" Thranduil replied strongly.

"No it is not! Whose is it, Thranduil?" Thorin snarled, making Thranduil wince a little at the harsh tone.

"Yes it is!" He insisted, all his hope shattering away when Thorin flinched. "It's ours. Here?"

He took the dwarf's hand and placed it against his stomach, hoping that Thorin would realize and would look forward to their future together.

However, Thorin became extremely stiff and his face distorted in pain as he tugged his hand free.

Thranduil's eyes widened at the act. His heart panging with a throbbing sense of rejection, he let his hands fall beside him as his sadness washed away any form of hope from his eyes.

"It's ours,  _meleth._ " His voice came out weak, hopeless—much like he had felt at that moment. "I did it for you."

Thorin inhaled sharply and bit his lips. He seemed to be struggling against himself before finally he gathered his bearings and faced the other.

It hurt Thranduil as he was looking back at a hardened face.

"I shouldn't have indulged."

"No." Thranduil rasped, pleading with his eyes.

"I shouldn't have allowed myself. We can't be together."

"No, don't say that!" Thranduil's voice was bordered with a fraught insistence. He knew he was losing his world and he held tightly till the end, determined not to give up. "We _can_. I have done it for you! All for you. How can you say that?"

His eyes flared with anger rising up from his chest. Despondence planting itself firmly inside his heart, Thranduil sneered with the last reserve of will he had, praying for Thorin to come around. "It was for  _you_. All for you! How can you give up like that?"

Thorin's eyes were suddenly devoid of any emotion and they portrayed what his tone bore: a cold hard fact.

"I can't be with you, Thranduil. I am engaged."

Thranduil's eyes expanded when he felt the beginning of impact of those words. He shook his head, desperately trying to reject what he had heard just then but the more he tried, more had they rang louder inside his head.

His mouth parted as he tried forming some words. But all it did was cause his lips to tremble as the words lost their way at the tip of his tongue.

"You're engaged?" He finally said, a cold eerie feeling grasping his entire body.

Whatever colour he had left on his face drained away without a second's hesitation as Thorin nodded. "Yes."

Blue orbs narrowed as they flickered in an enraged manner. Thranduil's face soon shrugged off the disbelief and reddened with anger which bubbled inside of his chest.

"You're  _engaged_  and so you can't be with  _me_?" He hissed, sneering all the more when Thorin regarded him with a hidden apology. "I am willing to sacrifice everything for you. My honour, my dignity! And you can't do  _one_  thing for me?"

Suddenly, the wave of anger had disappeared and instead of a raging storm, Thranduil's eyes became frigid and harsh as if they'd been swept by a cold torrent.

"If that is what it is to be," he spoke, his voice lacking any of its usual warmth. His eyes became harder and colder, much like what he had felt within him. "Then so be it."

He saw Thorin's eyes flicker with unspoken words of apology but before Thorin had any chance to say anything further, Thranduil stood up and left, wishing to be left alone as soon as possible.

He didn't spare Thorin a second glance.

* * *

Behind the thick cover of trees, a pair of eyes followed the retreating back of the elven prince. Sharp ears had picked up every bit of the conversation that had taken place and at the end of it, Rainion stood there  _absolutely_  shocked. Dumbfounded.

Thranduil was pregnant. And  _he_  was the sire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well not so much as a plot twist. I'm sure most of you have guessed what'd happen. :) I'm sorry for tearing those two apart like that! It's not a fluffy Thorinduil, as I've said, but unlike my other fics, I'm not too sure if they'll have a happily-ever-after ending. I'm so sorry! D: Do let me know what you think. I really appreciate your feedback.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Sow a Barren Land
> 
> Disclaimer: 'The Hobbit' belongs to J.R.R Tolkien, MGM, Wingnut Productions and New Line Cinema. I make no profit off this.
> 
> AN: I am terribly sorry about this delay. It's a new schedule and I needed time to adjust myself to it.
> 
> This is a heavy chapter and much of it focuses on Rainion and Thranduil. In the next chapter, you'll see one of the major things in this fic and hopefully, I can merge it without making it seem forced.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your support and patience. :)

Throughout the forest, the scrunching of dead leaves could be hard as fast and strong steps were placed on them.

It was early morning and by that time, most of the elves in Thranduil's escort were awake and beginning to start their morning activities. However, as soon as they picked up the sound of unruly footsteps, they frowned and looked up in that direction, their confusion growing even more when they were passed by a blur of brown and grey.

Rainion was furious as he made his way. With what he came to know, his mind was sent off in a spin and his heart thumped so loudly that it threatened to come out from his chest. He couldn't think clearly. His mind was too muddled by the sudden revelation and his heart was pierced with hot shards of disgust at Thranduil's deed.

His eyes were veiled with loathe and disappointment which far outweighed his capacity to remain calm.

When a tent came to his sight, his glowering eyes were fixated upon it and with a burst of determination, Rainion hastened his pace.

The flap flew open and Thranduil was startled from his thoughts as he spun and looked bewildered at the unwanted company.

His eyes flashed with authority when they landed on a familiar figure, flushed and breathless.

"What is the meaning of this?" He hissed while looking askance. He was in no mood for unnecessary trouble. Not too long ago, he was so mercilessly rejected and Thranduil's wounds were still fresh to have a sour impact on his mentality.

However, his defiance wore off as Thranduil was overtaken by surprise when the other dropped the flap loudly and approached him with heavy steps.

"What are you playing at?" Rainion asked, his eyes glinting with a cruel and hurt look which made Thranduil's eyes grow bigger insolently.

"Beg your pardon?" Thranduil asked, not at all grasping how this sudden form of courage came in the usually timid elf. "How  _dare_  you use that tone with me? I'll have you remember who you're speaking to,  _Silvan_!" He warned, sharply glowering at the other elf.

" _You_ remember who you're speaking to!" Rainion sneered, at which Thranduil was completely taken aback.

Not used to being talked back, Thranduil's eyes flashed with rage. A snarl appearing on his mouth, he directed a sharp gaze as he retorted back, "I do well to remember who stands before me. It is  _you_ who needs a lesson in remembrance. If you weren't needed, I'd call the guards by now and be done with you. You have a lot to be grateful about, is that understood?"

His rebuke only seemed to infuriate the other even more. For within seconds, Rainion's eyes hardened and a strain appeared on his features as if he was willing himself not to lash out.

Thranduil lifted his chin up while daring Rainion with a critical look and quickly took away his attention from the other.

"Now if you are done with your little amusement, I'd expect you to leave and head for your quarters, befitting to  _your_ status."

Thranduil's voice still flared from the anger he felt from earlier. And added to it was this upsurge of outburst coming from his subject! For the life of him, he could never comprehend where  _he_ would be talked down to by someone who didn't even come close to his influence.

His mind was filled with shock yet again when he was turned abruptly and was now facing Rainion's furious face, mere inches away from his own.

"If I weren't needed I'd not be given a second glance,  _Your Highness._ " Rainion scoffed, his eyes piercing into those of Thranduil's while he took a firm hold of his shoulders.

"If you weren't needed, you wouldn't have the  _privilege_  of escorting me." Thranduil retorted back sharply, arrogance seeping into his tone.

He jerked his shoulders and when the other didn't budge, he glared at the hands which had the galls to touch him in such a manner before he looked up and directed his glare at Rainion himself. "And neither would you have the  _insubordination_ with which you dare set your foot inside  _my_ tent."

"Of course I'd have the privilege of escorting you! That is all you  _require_  of me." Rainion's tone was harsh. His eyes glimmered with an undercurrent of some other emotion equally strong and overwhelming, veiled brilliantly by his rage.

Vehemence erupted in Thranduil's eyes as they narrowed pointedly. "What is required of you is for you to know your place and do  _only_ what is asked of you!" Thranduil replied angrily, sneering ferociously at the other elf when the grip on his shoulder's tightened. "Unhand me  _now_!"

"I  _do_ what is asked of me!" Rainion couldn't contain himself any longer. He screamed and clenched his fists, unmindful of him still holding Thranduil. Ignoring the wince coming from the other, he went on in a fuming tone, "I do what  _you_ ask from me. I have done so _every_  night! I have let you toy with an idealism I hold so dear to my heart. I did it all! Catered your every whim. Let myself be unseen and hidden from your eyes. I have watched you as you replaced me by some other. I have seen you leave after you had no use of me. I let myself be cast aside like an object so that  _you_ could be satisfied!"

Rainion ended harshly. By then, his face and hands were trembling out of sheer restraint. His eyes bore deep into Thranduil's heart, giving off an intense form of anger and hurt he had kept locked within himself.

At that, his face bore the immense shock he was experiencing and for a while Thranduil could do nothing except stare at the other with scandalous eyes.

He exhaled and let his face twist into a snarl as a wide range of emotions battled deep inside him.

His eyes flickered over to his shoulders which now throbbed with a pain from being held so strongly. A discomfort gathered in his heart as it beat wildly from the excitement and bewilderment over the whole event.

He would never admit it out loud but the way the other's swollen breath hit against his face, the way those usual warm eyes smouldered with a fiery anger and prestige was enough to intimidate Thranduil.

His own breathing was heaved and surprise aside, apprehension gripped Thranduil's heart which felt like churning and swirling unsettlingly as he tried to look away from those wild pair of eyes.

Rainion had never looked so feral.

An intense silence stretched between the two beings. Both panted hard—one as an outlet of his anger and other to cope with the huge blow he had suffered.

Thranduil's face hardened as his eyes challengingly met those of Rainion. His pride and arrogance coming into play, Thranduil raised his chin slightly and glared down at the other with the royalty and haughtiness which he possessed inherently.

His glare wavered a little when Rainion finally inhaled sharply. Never taking his eyes off the other elf, Thranduil stayed silent, waiting for his shoulders to be released, when the pressure on them began to lessen gradually.

Rainion's face was losing its edge. Now that the anger in him began to ebb, his eyes were left uncovered with a pure grief which jabbed Thranduil in his chest. No matter how much he kept up his cold appearance, Thranduil couldn't ignore how much he was affected by the Silvan's eyes forcibly holding back tears.

"Do  _not_ speak to me of doing my job for I have done it  _extremely_ well." Rainion spoke in a voice which threatened to break down. He squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, as if he wanted to hide whatever he was feeling. And it was a futile attempt by far.

"I never hoped to rise above my status." He went on. His tone became choked with unshed tears and his voice was rendered with such a vulnerability that Thranduil was forced to break his cold stance when his own eyes started welling up.

However, he quickly adorned his coldness when Rainion looked up. As he did, Thranduil could swear a part of his heart throbbing for the young elf whose eyes pleaded so earnestly.

"I have always battled with my virtues with what we did." Tears threatened to slip from his eyes as Rainion slowly removed his arms, letting them fall limply beside him. "I have held such union with reverence. Never believed to conjoin without love. And yet, I obeyed what you asked of me. I didn't object and perhaps that was my greatest mistake."

Thranduil's eyes extended by just a fraction at that. Suddenly, his heart felt burdened with a new sense of guilt as he watched the other's helpless form, overshadowed by a long-held grief.

"Do you know how it feels when you  _know_ you're just a substitute? That you will never be loved?"

He looked so broken and felt so unjust which made Thranduil's heart squeeze in empathy for the other.

"Do you know how it feels when you know you'll always be cast aside? Do you know how it feels to see you leave every night?" Rainion implored, each word shattering Thranduil and insinuating his guilt, "Do you know how it feels to be left behind?"

It was then that Thranduil felt a sharp pang in his chest. Unbeknownst to him, his mouth parted as a shuddered gasp escaped from his lips.

All of a sudden, he felt so pathetic. Guilt and shame seared throughout his heart and he felt a weight that washed away the arrogance he held previously.

He knew. He knew well.

He cast his eyes downwards, suddenly finding too hard to meet Rainion's gaze. His face burned with embarrassment and for the first time in his life, Thranduil found him lowering his head in disgrace.

He had been so blind! He was so caught up in his own grief and intentions that he had no regard for others' feelings. He had no regard for _Rainion's_ feelings.

His lips trembled but no words came out. He tried swallowing but his throat felt so dry. A coldness crept inside his chest as he now came face to face with a realization which tore him inside and out.

He had done to the poor elf  _exactly_ what Thorin had done to him. He was no better.

He didn't know how long he had been looking down. Nor he had known when Rainion had gathered his composure for when he was called out calmly, Thranduil very hesitantly looked up, immediately wandering his gaze to land anywhere but on the other's face.

"You pictured him in place of me, My Lord?" Blue eyes darted towards the speaker when Thranduil understood how Rainion must've come to know. They widened soon after as Thranduil realized just  _how much_  had Rainion heard.

He prayed to the Valar earnestly to spare him any more shame he had brought upon himself.

"I could live if it was just for closure. Knowing what I know now, I'll fade."

However, his prayers went unheard as Thranduil once again found himself looking down. Once more his heart throbbed in shame. The weakened way with which Rainion spoke the last words shattered whatever was left of Thranduil's heart.

And he felt absolutely pathetic.

* * *

Thrór paced wildly in his chambers. There had been no news of Thorin and his cohorts and no sign of them either. As days passed, Thrór grew more and more impatient as various forms of concern rammed his mind.

Surely Thorin would've been closer to home by then and surely he had succeeded in what he was set out to do?

Worry rapidly growing within him, he reached for his glass of ale and throttled it down his throat. He was nervous and extremely anxious. It was crucial for Thorin to succeed and it was crucial for Thorin to reach the safety of his kingdom.

Dwarven pride depended on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: 'The Hobbit' belongs to J.R.R Tolkien, MGM, Wingnut Productions and New Line Cinema. I make no profit off this.
> 
> AN: Here's the next instalment. Things are definitely picking up pace and slowly we're entering the next arc of this fic. Hopefully, you guys will like what I've planned for our sexy protagonist. :D

It was deep into the night when a band passed—feral and merciless in their appearance—carrying torches and weapons as they rode away breathlessly.

Fires blazed all over burning houses and homes, slowly spreading over the entire city. Scream of women and children echoes throughout the air. Mothers pleaded their children to escape, husbands stayed behind urging their families to get away while they still could. Cattles ran in disarray, chaos overwhelmed the crowds and all over, it reeked of charred hay as utter destruction was brought about.

As the entire crowd headed for the city exit, a family of four tried to keep their pace. The youngest of them all stumbled suddenly and her mother paused, terrified, taking bumps from others as they went past her.

She paused and was swirled around as a flurry of horses went past her. She turned, horror carving into her being, when she was just able to catch the flowing golden hair and red cloaks as the riders rode past the crowds in a raging manner. Determination marred the very horses on which they rode, as they flew past the crowd, taking no heed of and paying no attention to anything except for the ones they intended to find.

Whatever little belongings they had lay scattered as the husband and brother quickly rushed to the young one's aid. Earnestly, they pulled her up and as the woman caught up to them, she clutched her daughter's hand as they began running with the crowd.

Doriath was burning and everyone had but one goal: to reach the city exit.

* * *

Two days since there last encounter, Thranduil had kept himself distant from Rainion and the elf in question too seemed to provide the prince with ample space. He took care to maintain his distance and only spoke when he was addressed.

Two days had passed since Thranduil last saw Thorin, though there was no pause in running the dwarf's thoughts in his mind. In fact, if he could help it, Thranduil would go over and over again with the sweet days they had both shared.

The gentle kisses and touches, the loving gazes and whispered promises were still gleaming bright and they filled Thranduil's heart with a certain kind of joy he long had been withheld from. Although, as soon as they'd land upon the bitter conversation they had, Thranduil's heart would stop fluttering and would sink with just as much heaviness.

He shook his head, trying to focus on the path ahead. He reigned in his steed. The elk slowed down and for that, someone from his company enquired about anything he sensed.

The elf's voice was drowned among Thranduil's active thoughts. The elven prince hardly reacted or registered the cautious glances the other elves gave one another.

One even flicked his gaze towards Thranduil and squinted his eyes with a raised brow, silently asking his companion if the prince was alright.

The other shrugged, signalling that he was in the dark as well.

Before it became too worrisome, an elf finally gathered courage and approached Thranduil. Just as he was about to call out to him, the Sinda snapped out of his inattentiveness and putting up his best royal facade, he glanced at the other defiantly, tipping his head as he wondered what need the other would possibly have to approach him.

The elf immediately seemed apologetic as he began, "Does Your Highness sense something?"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes in confusion and was about to ask what his subject meant. However, his attention was soon caught by the panicked voice of some other elf, who said in panic, "I hear sound of hooves. They are fast approaching!"

He didn't quite know if it was a saving grace or not but Thranduil's focus was grabbed nonetheless. His eyes widened in alarm as he hubbed on the intended direction. The size of his eyes grew even bigger as he too heard the ground thumping with a beat, confirming what had just been said.

"Stay sharp. Be in formation." Thranduil ordered, his peripherals catching the guards moving into a defensive position as ordered. Their hands readied on their weapons, the elves seemed anticipatory as they waited for the threat to show itself.

His fist and thumb enclosing on his own sword as well, Thranduil motioned with his hand, signalling the guards to wait for further orders, as he himself rendered his sharp gaze to sweep the path in front of him. His heart started beating faster as he became full with anxiety. His breath was held in his chest and all of his senses were extremely keen while he awaited the other party.

The tension was palpable. Not a single elf made any sound. None had their focus wavering by just a bit and all were strung out much like their bows. The slightest of agitation would cause them to launch an attack.

The sound of hooves became louder. From listening alone, Thranduil could guess that they were not a large army but the way with which they rode appeared to be extremely rushed and fraught.

His stomach fluttered and Thranduil placed a hand on it, soothing his nerves. His eyes suddenly darted over to his left and inwardly, he flinched as he realized a major flaw in his plan.

Rainion had no knowledge of how to wield weapons. He was vulnerable.

"Ride to the back." He ordered, quickly setting his eyes in front. When the other didn't respond, Thranduil frowned in annoyance and said with more assertiveness, "Rainion, did you not hear? Ride to the back where you'll be safe."

At that, he caught the other move. However, instead of doing as directed, Rainion moved forward and came very close to the elven prince's mount. At that, Thranduil's brows shot up as he became extremely surprised.

"What are you doing, you fool?" He hissed irritably. He had no time for such games. "I'm trying to save your life!"

"And I'm trying to save yours," came Rainion's reply which effectively stunned Thranduil as he stared with disbelief. He was all the more shocked when very softly Rainion added, "Both of your lives."

He couldn't help himself as his head jerked back to face the other. Rainion's lips were pressed tight and there was a glint in his eyes—the same glint which he had noticed during their field work—that spoke of immeasurable determination the Silvan had about him.

Then Rainion turned and as he met gazes, Thranduil could clearly see that it wasn't a question of flaunting on the other's part. Rainion was serious and he meant his words.

He was given a single nod and Thranduil turned to face the front. All of a sudden, he felt something in his heart. Something warm and slow like a newly lit heath, giving him a welling sensation in his chest, which was well familiar to the esteemed prince.

It was that of pride. Towards his subjects and towards  _one_ in particular who seemed undeterred as the rest of them, if not more.

* * *

Oropher dropped heavily on his throne, scandalously looking at the messenger as he had been delivered a drastic news not too long ago.

"What?" He managed to rasp out, drawing in a shuddering breath as his mind went about for a spin.

He looked up at the messenger shakily and felt his throat growing dry and wordless as he dreadfully waited for confirmation.

The messenger didn't fare any better. His face was ashamed and a horror splayed all over his face and demeanour.

His voice shook with fear as he somehow managed to respond, "It is true my king. King Thingol has been slain. It was the dwarves."

Green eyes widened as Oropher went chakily pale. He slumped back unceremoniously against his throne, suddenly feeling numb and frozen all over as helplessness overtook him.

* * *

Thorin paused abruptly, pulling the reign of his mount as hard as he could. The pony neighed in protest and stopped, an action imitated by the others when they too came to a halt.

A frown appeared between the dwarf prince's brows as he confusedly took in the small number of elves, rigid and stern in a tight formation, headed by Thranduil himself.

His expression showed off his increasing state of shock as his eyes picked up the subtle manner with which the elves had their hands on their weapons, as if it'd only take a blink for them to draw them out.

Before long, his eyes landed on the elegant hand of Thranduil, leisurely placed beside him as it would appear. However, experienced as he was, Thorin soon realized the little signal Thranduil was giving to the other elves and before he knew it, his eyes gazed upward, broadening in realization as he took in the elven prince's stoic stance.

"What are you—"

His words died down in his throat as he was overtaken by surprise. He hadn't expected to run in to Thranduil so soon.

The other narrowed his eyes and replied in a tone still raw from the wound he had received that favoured no friendly transaction. "None of your concern."

"What? It is my damn concern! You shouldn't be here!" Thorin sneered but not out of anger. He was frustrated and rushed. Already his company started fidgeting and Thorin himself was in no mood to stand around and explain himself.

He looked over his shoulder and for a brief moment, considered one of the dwarves at his back before frantically turning his short span of attention over to Thranduil.

"Look," He drew in a breath and said run a panicked hand through his hair, ignoring Thranduil's curious glances, "Get out from here. Fast. It's not safe."

"Why should we return when we are but one day's journey from Doriath?" Thranduil asked, not even bothering to conceal the distrust and anger from his voice.

Thorin opened his mouth to argue but shook it away. Instead, he went on insisting the other, "I can't explain. I wish I could." He paused, looking over his shoulder yet again, before he faced Thranduil with urgency. "But please. Have faith in me. You must get away from here."

Thranduil's cold stance wavered and he seemed completely shaken. His voice was laden with concern as he asked, "What have you gotten yourself into?"

"I can't say. Nor can I linger for a moment longer." Thorin inhaled loudly, his frown deepening as worry coalesced within him. "They're coming. You might not be spared. Please get out while you can!"

Thranduil's forehead creased in utter confusion. He shook his head and asked again, trying to comprehend whatever was taking place, "Who are coming?"

"GO BACK!" Thorin yelled, desperation bordering his eyes.

Before Thranduil could even start to enquire, Thorin commanded his mount and went past the elves in a blur, hastily followed by others.

While he was still in the other's hearing range, Thorin turned back one more time and urged Thranduil before it was too late. "Go back Thranduil. Now! The elves are enraged! Return to your realm."

He quickly rode ahead and didn't look back, thus missing the stunned form of every elf who was left behind frozen in place.

"My lord, we should move."

A voice beside him broke Thranduil from his stance. The sound of hooves could no longer be heard and once again, a tense silence surrounded the elves.

"My lord,  _please._ Those dwarves seemed terrified. Perhaps we should be as well."

He turned towards the other and as Rainion's concerned face came into view, he hardened his gaze and said solemnly, "Turn back."

He next faced the others, pointing his elk in the opposite direction and spoke to them as well. Only this time, his voice was drenched with urgency and absoluteness as he commanded, "Turn back.  _Now_! Head for Greenwood! Do not tarry."

Picking up the exigency in their prince's tone, the other elves spared no time and did as they were told, hurriedly cutting through the forest as their horses ran in full speed.

Thranduil stayed behind the group, ensuring that they were not being followed. The flutter in his stomach was back. His heart now leaping with an uncertain dread, he clutched his slightly swollen belly and rode harder.

Rainion stuck beside him and even if he gave the other a concerned look, he was soon forced to accept as the Silvan made it quite clear he would not leave their prince and his child in the mouth of teeming danger.

Thranduil's mind was bursting with new worries. He had certainly not expected this chain of events, much less Thorin's sudden rejection. Now that he was put in this dire position, he couldn't help but stress over what his father's reaction would be once he returned. He'd be noticeable by then and Oropher would certainly not accept the sire of his child.

 _If_ he knew.

Exhaling shakily, he frowned and tapped the sides of his ride, urging it to go faster. In a matter of moments his mind was relieved off all these budding concerns, freeing it to think of one thing and one alone.

_Reach Greenwood. Stay alive._

Compared to the life of his child and company, other matters were of a far lesser priority.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Soooooo...what do you think? Okay, it was a 'meh' attempt to incorporate the fall of Doriath. And I know, Thorin had no part in it. Not even the dwarves of Erebor. But let's just pretend. ^^;


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not. One. Thing.
> 
> AN: I know Oropher was in Doriath the time of the disgusting murder and that it wasn't committed by the dwarves of Erebor. But for our little fic's sake, let us pretend a bit more, yeah? :) Like I already haven't mashed up different timelines. XD
> 
> Thanks everyone for your lovely support. :)

Gates were hauled to widen and a cloud of dust soon covered the entrance with a rapid speed. Through it, cluttering of hooves could be heard—so heavy and frantic—that the people of Erebor scurried back to the far edges of the road, covering their eyes and nose, while they let the company pass.

After a few short moments, the sound of hooves began fading away and the cloud of dust slowly started dissipating, so that the people could again see their surroundings.

Those who had witnessed now stood dumbfounded. They curiously looked at the direction where the band of ponies went and wondered with a confused expression what could possibly be the matter for such excitement.

Soon, the gates slammed back loudly and the spectators were jolted back into their attention, frowning as they suddenly felt very uneasy.

Footsteps echoed throughout the grand corridors, running along the stretch of palace walls. Resolution bounced off from their feet as the small group of dwarves marched towards the throne room, their lips pressed tight into a thin line and brows drawn together in extreme fear.

The steps grew heavier and spoke of such urgency that anyone who came in path quickly stood aside, letting them go forth.

As they approached the throne room, a pair of guards bowed and uncrossed their axes, allowing for the company to go through before they were met with the next pair.

Thorin and his men received many curious glances and even some whispered about their ragged state. However they had no time to pay attention to such trivialities. They hastened their pace and marched ahead with only one thing in their focus.

They had to meet the king. They had to report for the situation that went extremely out of hand.

The heavy set of doors flew open at which, Thrór immediately stood up, frowning deeply as the band of dwarves entered. Echoes of footsteps filled the vast hall sounding so ominous and ill-willed that the king had to breathe a few times to retain his composure.

Thorin lead the group, his face pulled to a grave expression and his eyes shining intensely while the others who followed looked unnaturally rigid and stiff.

Thrór began descending from the stairs. As he took a closer look at the others, his frown increased. The dwarves were dishevelled and exhausted. Numerous small cuts and gashes marred their faces and Thorin in particular sported a deep cut to the right of his forehead that certainly didn't come from collision with any thorns or such.

While he was greeted, Thrór quickly swept his eyes over the rest of the men. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that there appeared few in number than that which was originally sent out. It was clear that a battle had taken place and it was not without a doubt that Thorin and the others  _barely_ escaped.

Their bodies were covered in armour but a closer look revealed that not many of his men could stand upright. In fact, most were drained of their energy just from the walk to his throne . It wasn't just because lack of training or exhaustion of travel.

Thrór knew his guards better.

No, rather the strained expressions of the dwarves revealed to him more than he needed to know. They were severely injured. If it showed on their faces, then Thrór could only guess how bad they must have had it on their bodies.

Snapping out of his trance, he let his enquiring eyes fall on Thorin. Seeing that he was addressed, the dwarven prince inhaled and said in a solemn voice, "We have it, my lord."

Thrór's eyebrows were raised automatically just as his eyes became gradually bigger. His gaze flickered over to the guard who was approaching him and settled on him with high anticipation.

On Thorin's command, the guard reached into his tunic and took out a heavy piece of cloth, wrapped tightly over some object.

Thrór's eyes wandered over to it and the king waited as the guard gently began unfolding it.

He could feel his heart beginning to thump with curiosity and his brows were raised to the limits on his forehead. Whatever the object was had to be extremely delicate and the more it was unwrapped, more the rhythm in his heart became faster as anxiety and an anticipatory tension filled his mind.

Finally, the guard let the cloth drop and displayed to his king a brilliant necklace, shining valiantly and gallantly like the stars in a constellation. As he held out said object to the king, Thrór's eyes sparkled with such wonder and amusement that only proved how befitting the necklace was.

It was captivating! Beautifully crafted, it showed off dwarven splendour in artistry and the divinity of that which was pure other worldly.

"My king, we have it." Thorin's voice brought Thrór back into the present as he quickly hardened his gaze in focus.

"Well done, I knew you'd be perfect." Thrór congratulated, proudly looking at his line before once again being drawn to the object the other dwarf still held in his hands.

The necklace had a fine mithril base, encrusted with diamonds shinning like a star studded night sky in the dimmest of light. Right in the middle of it sat one of the only three jewels, formed off the unmarred light of the legendary Two Trees.

To the elves, it was known as the Silmaril. To Thrór, it was simply  _mystic_.

"Who can ever imagine such a graceful thing could come out of the hands of dwarves? Who cannot but be _amazed_ at dwarven sense of beauty? " He said ponderously, taking in the delicate works adorning the glistening piece of craft. As the necklace flickered in the light, the glint in Thrór's eyes danced as well, brimming with pride and awe at the sheer elegance of it.

Suddenly, his eyes became sharper and he looked at his grandson with a rage which accumulated deep within him as the very thought of a shameful prejudice rung in his mind.

"It was crafted by  _our_ toil and sweat." His tone lost all forms of amusement and rendered a dark shade of possessiveness. "The elves had  _no_ right to claim it their own."

In spite of having pride in his eyes, Thorin said nothing but merely gave a tight nod in response. In all his years, Thrór had come to know his grandson well that he immediately understood that there was something which was bothering Thorin.

He tilted his head and asked as his eyes narrowed in confusion, "Are you not in agreement?"

"Forgive me, my king. I am pleased but I am unable to render my emotions." Thorin replied in a stern manner which did not suit the emotion he was talking about.

"What ails you?" Thrór asked, once again his eyes falling over the cuts and scrapes on others' faces. The way they were rigid, Thrór could no longer ignore the little voice in his mind that spoke of what might have likely happened. Still, hoping against hope, he suppressed it and waited for Thorin to recount.

The dwarf prince became tenser upon being asked and seemed to hesitate a bit. At that, Thrór narrowed his eyes as his breath hitched in his throat.

The more he waited, the louder did the little voce speak— bringing forth all the concerns and bad scenarios which Thrór shoved in the darkest depths of his mind. As time passed, his beliefs dwindled as the possibility of those dark things seemed very likely.

After what seemed like ages, Thorin finally spoke up. His eyes were dark and his tone was grim. "The mission didn't go as planned."

Thrór's heart raced as he felt ice flowing through his veins. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were reflecting the growing dread he began feeling inside of him.

He parted his mouth and silently urged the other to go on and Thorin did exactly that while he grew more and more sombre.

"We were greeted with diplomacy in mind. However, two of the guards acted rash and snatched the necklace away from their king, deep into the night."

A shudder ran past Thrór's spine as he looked at the other with utter disbelief. Terror was flooding in his heart and all of a sudden, he felt extremely numb as the implications of Thorin's narrative began to shape form in his mind.

He let out a shaky breath and asked, his voice refusing to come out as strong, "And King Thingol?"

At that, Thorin clenched his jaws tightly and the gaze he set upon his grandfather was anything but reassuring.

"He was killed."

Thorin's voice was grave. As he spoke, dourness covered his eyes, making Thrór all the more despicable. "And two of our men have died at the hands of elves." He paused a little, allowing for his grandfather to take in what Thorin had witnessed before he continued, "A war has been started. And it shall go on for centuries to come."

* * *

Oropher fled outside into the courtyard as soon as he had heard of the arrival of his son and his cohorts. Ignoring the marauding look over the guards' faces, he hastened towards the company eyes transfixed on his son and heir.

Upon seeing him, Thranduil dismounted his ride and approached the other with a stricken look on his face.

Before the younger elf could say anything, Oropher sighed out of pure relief, thanking the Valar countless times over for the safety of his subjects and most importantly, his son.

"Adar," Thranduil started in a frantic voice but Oropher cut him off as he declared with a stunned tone, "They killed king Thingol."

He paused and mimicked the ashen pallor of his son as Thranduil's brows shot up in unexpectation and his eyes grew wide as the weight of the elf king's words hit him hard.

"What?" came the breathless response as Oropher's words finally sunk in his mind.

At that, the king nodded and explained as gravely as he felt, "The dwarves killed him and stole his necklace. _"_

Green eyes flashed suddenly with an anger which Oropher managed to hold it in for so long. He sneered as the very thought of those greedy creatures filled his mind and all the prejudice he held against them for so long began to surface.

"Those insolent, obnoxious filths!" he sneered, startling the others when the silence and shock was suddenly overcome with such a sharp tone. "They killed him for that which is rightfully  _ours._  They killed him for a piece of jewellery! They used our good will and went against our kin. Those  _bastards_!"

He looked up and sharply met the prince's gaze as he went on, "Thranduil! Have a flank ready. Should they ever cross us, we shall have an answer!"

He was shocked however when Thranduil's hesitance came into view. Sneering harsher, Oropher prodded the other, uncertain of what could cause Thranduil such second thoughts. Then, he let out a gasp as a revolting thought crossed his mind.

"You are  _still_ going to defend him?" He asked, eyes narrowing in spite. "His  _kin_ cast you aside and you are _still_  going to side with them?"

He was expecting a retort from the usually sharp Thranduil but when the younger elf simply frowned and momentarily set his glance aside, Oropher was all the more confused.

"Well? What is it?" He asked, his tone bordering impatience at which Thranduil flinched. The motion didn't go unnoticed and Oropher's snarl grew as he couldn't understand what reason Thranduil could have for the way he was acting!

When the other didn't respond, Oropher commanded him to follow inside where they could have some privacy. Once they safely reached Oropher's study, the king voiced another concern that now gained high priority.

"You must wed. You must have an heir."

Thranduil jerked his head up at the other's command and his eyes shaded an unspeakable matter of restraint.

"Adar—"

He began but was not given a chance to speak as Oropher once again took over.

"There is no telling if there shall be a war.  _When_ there shall be a war. No telling if we will be involved and certainly there is no telling if you and I should return! You  _must_ have an heir Thranduil."

"Adar, please listen to me!" Thranduil begged but the king didn't seem to pay any attention.

"I have a perfect lady sorted out for you. She has every qualities desired in a princess of the Woodland Realm. She'll suit you well."

"No Adar—"

"And I have every confidence in your ability to raise a well suited king." Once again Thranduil's pleas went unheard.

He was beginning to say something more. "If the Valar is willing, then you—"

"Adar, listen to what I have to say!"

However, he was sharply interrupted to a halt and as he lifted his eyes, he became all the more startled when Thranduil's serious expression came into view.

"What is it?" He asked, taken aback slightly at how Thranduil had regained his spark within seconds.

"I can't marry yet!" He said with a determination at which, Oropher became angrier.

"Why?" he asked sharply, narrowing his eyes at his son who didn't even waver by a bit.

Instead, Thranduil's eyes shone with an intensity and as he spoke, Oropher's gaze were drawn to his stomach upon which Thranduil placed a delicate hand.

"I promise Adar, I will do as you command. I understand it if for the best of our people. But I can't comply to it immediately. You must allow me a year."

Oropher's attention remained on the spot that Thranduil seemed to  _cradle._  All of a sudden, his blood seemed to freeze in his veins as his mind became busy with reconnecting Thranduil's request with his action.

His eyes broadened at which he concluded.

He looked at his son with a horrified face, desperately hoping to be proven wrong. However, Thranduil graced him no favours. He simply confirmed what Oropher prayed not to happen.

"I am with child." The prince spoke with such overwhelming coldness that it broke the very essence of Oropher's spirit. It was as if Thranduil had premeditated this conversation they were having at the moment. It was as if Thranduil  _knew_ what Oropher would ask of him.

He stared miserably at his son, resisting a sudden urge to scream and cry out loud.

"W-what?" His voice refused to leave his throat and his mind was spinning so uncontrollably that the king feared he'd lose his consciousness at any moment.

"Who is the sire?" He finally asked after a long while, his heart wrenching when he saw Thranduil bit his lips in hesitance.

"Thranduil, who is the sire?" He asked again, this time more forcibly.

After what it seemed like eternity, Thranduil finally replied, adorning all the solemnity he possessed in his being. "Thorin."

At that, Oropher squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in deeply, trying to keep himself from lashing out in pure rage and deceit he felt was committed upon him. He didn't have the sense to ask when Thranduil had conjoined with the dwarf and when they met. Even if he did, Thranduil was left alone in the field. He'd surely be given a believable story and Thranduil was ingenious and extremely brilliant.

Taking a few more deep breaths, he once more dared to look at the other. Thranduil was still stoic and still calm wherein Oropher's insides were as turbulent as the deadliest of storms.

"You can't keep the child." The king finally declared, choosing to ignore the shattered face of his son which swiftly was concealed beneath his cold mask after one or two seconds of being shown.

"I understand." Thranduil complied, "No one shall know about this. You have my word Adar. After one year..."

He trailed off and as much as he tried hiding the quiver in his voice, Thranduil could never hope for his father to be so oblivious. The king stifled a sigh of his own and turned his back towards the younger elf.

He couldn't allow himself to witness what his son was going through. Whatever remained of Thranduil's heart crumbling to pieces and as much as Oropher wanted, he could not do anything to fix it.

"After one year, you shall wed the lady." The king finished for his son, closing his eyes as a heavy toll took his entire being. Never before had he felt so exhausted; so  _drained._

"As you wish."

And as Thranduil's strained voice accepted the unfair decision, he was crushed by an agony that only a father could experience while he was forced to take away the last happiness away from his own child.

But he was helpless! It had to be done.

_And Eru forgive me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...what do you think? Please let me know where I can improve!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't think this is what Tolkien had in mind when he wrote 'The Hobbit' or anything else. So...yeah. I don't own anything except the OMC.
> 
> AN: Oukay, another chapter. Still unsure if this should be a 'happily-ever-after' Thorinduil thing but let's see. With how this fic is going, I really doubt it will be unless a miracle happens. So just a heads' up for you guys...it might be OMC/Thrandy. I'm sorry. :( *slams head*  
> And I’ve decided to scratch Thranduil/OFC pairing. You know, less is more? Though it doesn’t apply here...not anymore. Uh...right. So, it WILL be too much to handle and without it, I can see the direction of this fic much better. Plus you know, it is gonna be easier to conclude.

Thranduil waited to see if his father had anything more to say. When the king didn't, he lowered his gaze and concentrated on his breathing. He knew how badly he had wanted a distraction and an effort to remain calm was a trivial one but it would have to do.

His attention was captured at the sound of heels frictioning against the ground. With calculated coldness, he stared as the king turned and slowly began to leave. His eyes followed the way Oropher walked and it hurt him to see the proud king  _dragging_ his feet out of the throne room,  _seeking_ for solace as he was ambushed with such a major news.

Oropher did not turn back. He did not look over his shoulders and spare a simple gaze to his son. When it was extremely apparent that he didn't  _wish_ to, Thranduil inhaled slowly and set his vacant eyes on one of the walls.

The footsteps became dimmer and dimmer until it was nothing but a resonating sound of soft taps against the ground, which in turn, waned gradually. Soon, the entire throne room went silent and in the middle of it stood Thranduil, only adding to the uncomfortable stillness that had taken place all around.

He stood in perfect immobility, his face unreadable and eyes cold. A soft light illuminated the cavern, rendering a pale yellow glow. Thranduil's face was carefully brushed with its gentle colour and even though it was to give the atmosphere a tranquil look, all it managed to do was somehow enhance the sombreness and melancholy that surrounded the elven prince.

Then, Thranduil's face cracked with pure anguish and before he knew it, he was on his knees, keeling over and he let out cry which had been long gathered in his chest.

Drops of tears fell on the ground as they rolled down from his cheeks. His head was hung low and an arm was brought up, roughly brushing against his scalp before it curled into a fist, tugging at the handful of hair before slamming down hard against the ground.

It was over. His dreams were shattered long before and the tiny bit of hope he was clinging to would be taken away from him as well.

There was no possibility that his father would let him keep the child.  _Especially_ now that he knew about its paternity. It was impossible! No half-dwarf would survive in such a hostile environment and no one would be expected to care for it. None. Not even Opropher himself.

Anger bubbled inside his heart and Thranduil began rebuking himself.

Why hadn't he told him of its true sire? Why did he have to take a name that had not a drop of blood in his unborn child's veins? What did he possibly hope to achieve? A redemption? A consolation that a part of him would always bear Thorin?

Suddenly, his face began to burn as he realized exactly what he had done. He had completely discarded the identity of his child's real sire.

Rainion's words rung in his mind and Thranduil quickly found that whatever he was accused of that day, it was all true. He  _indeed_ toyed with someone. He did turn a blind eye to Rainion's feelings and by acknowledging the child to be Thorin's, he did the most merciless thing imaginable. He relieved himself of the idea that he had  _used_ a subject to fulfil his dreams.

He dug his nails against the floor and curled them into a tight fist. His body started trembling and suddenly, in a fit of rage, he punched the ground hard—once, twice—before going limp and clutching his head.

His cried became louder. They were so  _visceral_ that not even the walls could contain it within themselves. The sounds bounced off and as they echoed back, they became more  _anguished_  and brutal.

Now, he had no one. He had lost Thorin, he had lost his sense of morality, he would lose his child and he would lose  _one_ person who was perhaps the closest to him.

Thranduil was startled when he felt a pair of hands wrapping from behind him and around his shoulders. With gentleness, he was pulled up, meeting no resistance. Thranduil let himself be guided towards the other's chest and let the other brush his hair in an attempt to comfort him.

At any other time, the elven prince would've been mindful of his dignity and pride of not being seen so vulnerable. Now, he was  _tired._ He could hardly care for himself to be seen in such a mess.

Before long, Thranduil hesitantly bought his arms up and with just as much deliberation, he slowly placed them against the other's biceps, clinging to him as gentle words were murmured in his ears.

* * *

The council was silent. Headed by their king, the council members had a certain look on their faces—awe struck and yet grave of the danger which was looming over them.

"They do not know which clan took this from them." One of them spoke. The dwarf was old and seasoned. He had clearly witnessed many mangled situations and had come out of it with success.

"And as long as we can, let us keep them thinking that it was those from the Blue Mountains who had caused such a calamity. At any rate, it was but a small band of dwarves. They'd never be considered to be the prince's cohorts. The lack of any banner only adds against their odds," he said and kept his eyes fixed on the necklace displayed beside the king's throne in a glass enclosure.

He never took notice of the protective way with which Thrór kept on guarding his treasure. Nor did he bother to see Thrór's grandson, keeping an alert eye on the necklace and the occupants of the room.

A bluish haze adorned the hall and in that light, the necklace shone in a dreamlike manner. As the light fell upon the legendary Silmaril, the stone reflected it back along with its own mythical light, making the necklace all the more mystic.

"But Thingol wasn't well acquainted with those lesser dwarves."

At the voice of his king, the old dwarf looked up attentively, a bit disappointed from having to tear his eyes away from such beauty.

Thrór seemed to notice his captivation. He frowned and as he spoke, he never took his eyes off the councillor, "And we, on the other hand, had good relations with the one Thingol trusted the most. If anything, suspicion falls on  _us_  first."

"But is it not true that the prince didn't set foot in their city?" The old one enquired, at which, Thrór seemed to pause. He watched intently as the king thought deeply.

"And is it not true that it was  _you_ who broke off ties with the Mirkwood prince? Surely you wouldn't be holding any grudge against the elves. Not when you have a very fine lady chosen for the prince."

His vision darted over to Thorin's for a moment and seeing the look of discontent on his face, the old dwarf quickly shifted his gaze and settled them back on his king.

"Had you been after the Silmaril, you wouldn't shun away the most valuable leverage, Your Majesty.  _And_  you'd have no need to set foot on their lands." He paused, letting his words sink in the whole room.

By then, each and every person was leaning forward. Their eyes were radiating with interest and consideration. Even Thorin seemed to loan some attention and as for the king, his brows only furrowed deeper.

When he managed to catch everyone's attention, the dwarf went on, this time in a more surety and absoluteness in his tone, "Blue Mountain, on the other hand, has always held disdain towards elves. They were always strained with their approach. The elves know of it. They can surely relate to it."

After a few moments, Thrór's eyes flickered and shone with a glint. In response, the old one's eyes too began filling with mirth and his lips slowly stretched into a smile as a non-verbal agreement was made.

"We shall wait for a while. We will not rejoice. The Blue Mountain will have heard word and surely, they will not be hiding the pride of their race," Thrór said, rounding off the plan and making it more concrete. "When pieces fall into places, Thorin shall wed."

As nods and hums of agreement reverberated throughout the grand hall, no one seemed to notice the prince who stood behind. Even if they did, his pained expression effectively went ignored.

* * *

Oropher groaned at the knock which was placed on his door. With a massive headache threatening to split open his skull, he really couldn't afford any more dilemmas.

He chose to ignore whoever it was on the outside and poured himself another glass of Dorwinion. He closed his eyes and began massaging his temples. In hopes of trying to come to terms with everything that had been going on, he didn't mind if he got utterly drunk that night.

He sighed in frustration when the door was knocked yet again. Setting down his glass on the small table, he sat down on the chair next to it. As soon as he was going to close his eyes, the person knocked again.

"By the Valar," Oropher hissed in annoyance and sighed out exasperatedly. Taking a swig of his wine, he waited for a second before giving the command, "Enter."

The door cracked open and Oropher kept his irritated gaze fixed at the entrance. A head peeked inside with fright and hesitance before the elf completely let himself in. As he did, Oropher's eyes extended at the unexpected visit and he sat up, clearly intrigued.

The elf bowed humbly and waited for the other's permission. Oropher tilted his head and raised a brow, silently asking the purpose. The Silvan took the cue aptly and began in a quiet voice, "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I had not intended to disturb you."

Oropher raised his hand and stopped the other. He narrowed his eyes and let his impatience seep into his tone, "Come to the point."

The elf looked shaken momentarily before he quickly gathered himself and went on, "I have come to know of the heinous act and I am, needless to say, disgusted by it."

"That is hardly the reason for you to come in my chambers so late at night," Oropher interrupted yet again, taking a sip of his wine. He had no time or mood to indulge in useless conversations.

The other seemed intimidated by the king's intense stare. Though, it didn't take him long to gather his bearing.

"No, Sire. But I know of something else that I feel is crucial for you to hear."

The elf's tone suddenly became extremely serious and his face was pulled into a steely determination, the same that gleamed from his eyes.

"What is it that you wish to say?" Oropher asked, slowly rising from his seat. As he approached the other, he could feel a tight tension gathering in his chest and the way the Silvan elf intensely gazed at him only attested to the seriousness of his intention.

Without wasting any further time, the other replied, "The prince must be kept away from prying eyes."

Oropher's eyes narrowed even further.

"He's with child my lord and wants none to know of this," His jaws were clenched and the closer Oropher came, the brighter his eyes flared.

The elf king stopped and regarded the other with cold eyes. He wondered just how much the other had heard of the exchange between him and his son— _if_ he had heard any at all.

The younger elf remained unwavered and even though he was intimidated by his king, his determination outweighed the intimidation and he looked straight into Oropher's eyes in the same manner he had done all those days ago.

"And do tell how you came to know?" Oropher asked, frowning deeply as he measured the other up.

"I was with him throughout our travel, Your majesty. I came to know of his state then," The young Silvan replied and his eyes were neither too focused, nor too weak. "And I found him in the halls a few moments after our return. There, he told me of his intentions."

When it was obvious that he was not being lied too, Oropher's gaze softened and he stepped back allowing for some space between him and the other.

"I am aware of his pregnancy." He finally mentioned after a long stretch of pause at which the other perked up. Taking the last sip from his glass, Oropher turned his back and headed over to the table where he set the glass down.

He missed the shocked look on the younger one's face where fear was slowly beginning to creep in. Before it was too much for the other to bear, Oropher spoke again in a sullen tone that reflected just how broken he himself was, "Knowing what I know, I can't allow the child to stay here. It would be staining our reputation."

He looked over his shoulder and sharply considered the Silvan, "But surely you know that."

He didn't miss the temporary angst that lined the other's face which only made Oropher all the more confused of such a reaction.

His eyes grew and suddenly, he faced the other with sharpness, causing him to flinch and direct his gaze at the ground with ample amount of guilt.

"So you  _do_  know," Oropher's voice lost all the steel edge it usually possessed and the king looked bewildered. Then, a second later, Oropher's expressions melted into that of awareness and his voice once again gained its normal finesse. "It seems Thranduil told you more than he could ever tell me."

He saw in an unfazed manner as the other hesitantly brought his eyes up and gaze at the king.

"And you are close tohim. Quite close."A light blush was colouring the other's cheeks and the elf suddenly found it very hard to hold the king's vision which only confirmed what Oropher had been suspecting.

"He trusts you." He raised his brow, green eyes looking up and down, sizing the other up and deciding if he was indeed true about his feelings or if it was just a facade.

"But you  _love_ him," All of a sudden, his brows were pulled to a frown and his expression tightened immediately as green eyes flared with the light of rationality.

The blush on the other's cheeks deepened even further and he brought his gaze down, keeping them fixed on the floor just as Oropher's focus kept pinned on him.

"But I won't accept it," He said coldly, narrowing his gaze when the other jerked his head up and stared wide-eyed at the elven king.

However, the startle soon went away from the younger one's eyes and they were spread with a sense of understanding and acceptance as he knew his place well.

Oropher's heart suddenly felt sympathy for the one standing in front of him. He had seen lost love; he had seen unrequited love and knew how anguishing it was. He softened his stance and sighed.

This young elf reminded so much of his son. They were so alike. Had it not been for his heritage, this would be a perfect match for Thranduil.

But Oropher was bound.

They needed an heir. A bride was chosen. And he wouldn't accept a common blooded elf—no matter how impressive he was.

"But you can help," He said gently, almost smiling at the gratitude coming off from the other. "You will look after him and will keep prying eyes away. When the child is due, I'll need you to make arrangements so that it is given to someone else. All of this must be done as quietly as possible."

The other bowed in thankfulness. It was clear he was extremely happy to help.

"Please seek a family where the child would be accepted and will be allowed to live," he added at which, the younger elf frowned in utter confusion.

Did it mean that he was not aware of the sire? Did Thranduil keep that part of the information to himself?

Oropher quickly shook off his thoughts and stared ahead.

"He needs all the support he can get or else he will fade. I shall not allow him to fade." It was more of a prayer and a reminder than a comment to the other. "He trusts you...and I do too. Please do not break my trust, Rainion."

The addressed pressed his lips, his eyes flickering a little as if something had dawned on him before they mellowed out and set in a more neutral manner.

"I shall not disappoint you, my king." Rainion bowed, sounding sad all of a sudden which the elf king attributed to his closeness with Thranduil.

He sighed and dismissed the other.

He only prayed for Thranduil to pull through. He didn't want to lose his son.

Closing the door, Rainion leant against it. His eyes were smeared with betrayal and hurt as he glared at the wall ahead. His heart throbbed and refused to believe what his mind grasped while Oropher conversed.

The king didn't know. Why else would he pray for the baby to  _survive_? Surely, no elf would murder a child just because it wasn't their own! Unless...

_You lied._

Unless it's sire's race was intolerable.

A cold chill ran down his spine and his heart was filled with a void as Rainion's eyes widened with the shocking revelation. He let out a gasp and within moments, his face was distorted as the full effect of treachery and lies crashed against him.

_How could you? How could you throw away all of me like that?_

He clenched his aching chest and forced himself to contain a scream that threatened to come out from his throat.

Suddenly, he bolted towards his chambers and ignored the confused looks of those whom he passed by. When he reached his room, he locked it and clutched his head in his palms.

Rainion cried. And he would not stop till the morning when he would realize that he'd never be loved back in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil seems to come off as this terrible person but really, he isn't thinking straight. Aaaand with that, this is end of Book I. Will be posting the next part soon! Do let me know what you think. I welcome any suggestions.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this leaves space for many questions. I'll explain them in the next chapter but if you find anything loopy, ask me and I'll try my best to explain.
> 
> Meanwhile, what d'you think? Don't know where this will go but I'll figure it out~ and I'd love to have suggestions and advice! Please review.


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